


The Aftermath

by Top_Hatted_Octopus



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, No Ring, Romance, Violence, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 18:51:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7945366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Top_Hatted_Octopus/pseuds/Top_Hatted_Octopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slight AU. Everyone lives. Movieverse. Bagginshield. In the wake of the Battle Of The Five Armies, will Bilbo have the courage to tell Thorin how he really feels? And what happens when the King awakens from weeks asleep, while recovering from his injuries, to find Bilbo gone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything by J. R. R. Tolkien or Peter Jackson.
> 
> Also Posted On FanFiction.net under Free-Imagination318

The first thing Bilbo felt as he regained consciousness was the pain in his head.  
He groaned and reaching a hand up, felt the large gash that disappeared into his hairline. His hand came away slick and he struggled to focus on the blurred image of his blood stained fingers.  
The effort proved to be too much for the hobbit and he let his arm fall back beside him.  
He felt so tried. In fact, it was almost too much effort to draw breath, each inhale seeming a ragged struggle against the tightness in his chest.  
As Bilbo became more aware of his surroundings he realised that his struggle was due to the something, or rather someone, lying across his chest.  
With what was left of his energy, he gathered his strength and rolled the body off of him, grateful when he was able to inhale with ease.  
The stench of death was almost overwhelming now and with that the hobbit abruptly sat up, his blood running cold in fear.  
Bilbo’s stomach lurched, but he ignored it along with the sudden wave of dizziness that overtook him. Was Thorin alive? What about the rest of the Company? The last thing Bilbo remembered was the sight of Thorin, Fíli Kíli and Dwalin riding to engage Azog in battle.  
With adrenaline riding hard through the hobbits veins, Bilbo struggled to his feet, his gaze franticly seeking out the bodies of every fallen dwarf within his sight in the hopes that he wouldn’t see the very thing that he feared most.  
His eyes were met with much death, almost too much to comprehend and although he did not recognise any of the dead; he found that it provided little comfort; the fallen before him stretching further than the eye could see.  
Unable to help it, Bilbo swayed where he stood. His heart wrenched with worry, sapping what little strength he had whilst his head pounded greater in pain.  
The hobbit desperately wanted to find his friends, needed to know that Thorin and the Company were safe and alive, but he knew that in order to search for them, he would first need to get his wounds tended to.  
Without thinking his feet propelled him towards The Lonely Mountain and he hoped that the battle was as well and truly over with as it seemed.  
Bilbo staggered through the masses of dead bodies and after what felt like hours, finally crested the top of a hill.  
In pain and feeling weak, the hobbit released a breath of relief at the sight before him. A multitude of tents had been pitched in the valley between the gates of Erebor and the ruined city of Dale. Bilbo could clearly see the bustle of life as dwarves, men and elves alike travelled between the tents, caring for their wounded.  
Stumbling clumsily down the slope, he finally reached the tents and nearly sagged when he saw a familiar and most welcome face.  
“Bilbo, my dear fellow!” Gandalf cried when he saw the approaching hobbit. “We were worried about you, but it’s good to see that you seem unharmed for the most part.” Gandalf clapped a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and the hobbit couldn’t help but grin, albeit tiredly, in return.  
“Gandalf! How is everyone? Are they well…alive?” Bilbo finished hesitantly, wringing his hand’s in anxiety when the wizard’s face tightened subtly.  
“They are all alive, Bilbo.”  
Bilbo did sag then and the wizard folded him into his arms, the hobbit almost lost amongst the cloth of Gandalf’s robe.  
“Bilbo…” Gandalf trailed off and Bilbo looked up into his aged face, tensing when he saw the worry there.  
“What is it Gandalf?” Bilbo asked when he didn’t elaborate any further.  
The wizard sighed. “Thorin is greatly injured, as are Fíli and Kíli.”  
Bilbo sucked in a harsh breath. “How badly?” He croaked, and whether it was from the worry or the pain from his injuries, Bilbo found himself swaying and clutched onto Gandalf’s sleeve when he felt like he might topple over.  
“Come, my friend. Let us see your injuries attended to first.”  
“No!” The hobbit tore his arm from Gandalf’s sudden grasp. “Tell me.” He demanded, a grim set to his mouth.  
“The healers are unsure whether they will last the night, but it is not all hopeless. The line of Durin is strong.” Gandalf reassured the hobbit when the smaller man suddenly paled.  
“I want to see them.” Bilbo said firmly.  
“Bilbo-”  
“No, Gandalf. Now.”  
The hobbit and the wizard stared at one another for the space of several breaths before Gandalf bowed his head. “Very well. But you must prepare yourself for they are gravely injured, especially the King.”  
Bilbo nodded his head once and followed behind Gandalf as he lead him towards one of the larger tents close to the gates of Erebor.  
As they drew close, Bilbo saw Dwalin standing beside the entrance. The warrior was covered in dried blood and had several visible wounds, scratches really, but thankfully nothing that seemed too serious.  
Dwalin uncrossed his arms as they approached, the tightness around his eyes seeming to lesson in what Bilbo thought might have been a small degree of relief.  
“Burglar. Finally. The King has been asking for you.”  
Bilbo could only nod, his voice having quite left him as pushed through the flaps and into the tent.  
Thorin was the first thing that Bilbo saw and he couldn’t help but rush over to the wounded King.  
“Thorin.” The hobbit breathed, taking in the sight of the bloody bandages that peaked from beneath the heavy blankets of fur lain across the dwarf.  
Thorin’s eyes opened at the sound of Bilbo’s voice, but started to cough before he could say anything; his face twisting in barely concealed pain.  
“Shuuush, Thorin.” Bilbo couldn’t help but smooth a hand over the King’s damp and tangled hair.  
“Bilbo-” Thorin started, his voice rough and breathy with effort.  
“Don’t move. Don’t move. Lie still.” Bilbo reached for the wet cloth beside Thorin’s bed and wringing it out, wiped the dwarf’s sweaty brow.  
“I’m glad you’re here.” Thorin paused, taking a moment to inhale. The sound a disturbing rattle. “I wish to part with you in friendship.”  
Bilbo felt the first beginning of tears prick his eyes and he grasped Thorin’s hand from where it lay upon the fur. “No. You’re not going anywhere, Thorin. You’re going to live.”  
In that moment, Bilbo wished for that to be true. Wished for it more than anything else in all of Middle Earth.  
Thorin drew in a ragged breath. “I would take back my words and my deeds at the Gate. You did what only a true friend would do. Forgive me.” His grip tightened around Bilbo’s. “I was too blind to see it. I am so sorry that I have lead you into such peril.” His voice was so filled with emotion that Bilbo had to fight in earnest against the sudden rush of tears that threatened to choke him.  
“No, I’m-I’m glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them.” Bilbo swallowed, feeling the growing lump in his throat. “And it is far more than any Baggins deserves.”  
Thorin’s breath grew even more unsteady, his next words almost garbled. “Farewell, Master Burglar. Go back to your books, and your armchair. Plant your trees, watch them grow. If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a merrier place.”  
Before Bilbo could protest that this wasn’t goodbye, Thorin grew still and Bilbo let out a wail as he shook Thorin’s hand. “No! No, Thorin-”  
Suddenly he was pulled from the King’s bedside and Óin was in his place, shouting for the tent to be cleared as several other dwarves and even an elf gathered around Thorin’s bedside.  
Bilbo didn’t bother to stop his tears this time and they fell freely down his face, not even caring when he felt himself being propelled from the tent.  
All too soon the sun was suddenly blinding him, the pain he had forgotten in the face of Thorin’s injuries, stabbing through his skull.  
The blackness came swiftly and Bilbo welcomed the chance to be rid of the pain that was the breaking of his heart.  
The last thing Bilbo thought of was his regret, regret that he’d never told that stubborn, rude and ill-mannered dwarf that he’d loved him. 

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****MAJOR SPOILER ALERT*****
> 
> Don't worry, this isn't as sad as it seems, see Chapter Two for confirmation.
> 
> AN: Thank you all for reading, it's greatly appreciated and would love to hear your thoughts! :-)


	2. Chapter 2

    Bilbo groaned and rolled over, yet despite his various aches and pains; he found that he felt quite comfortable. Probably more so in fact, than he had been in almost a year.  
  That knowledge bought with it the pain of realisation. The quest. The battle. Thorin.  
  Thorin was dead.  
  Bilbo felt the heat behind his eyes and pressed the palms of his hands to them. No, no, no, no. no. All of that time, all of that effort and for what? The King to be killed just after his victory. It didn’t seem fair.  
  Bilbo felt the urge to scream, he wanted to shout, wanted to punch something - no matter how unbecoming that was of a hobbit. But in that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.  
  Bilbo released a shuddery breath and rubbed the spot in the centre of his chest in a effort to alleviate the pain he felt.  
  “Bilbo?” Gandalf’s voice reached his ear’s, but Bilbo ignored it. For once, manners didn’t seem that important.  
  “My friend, are you alright?”  
  Bilbo sighed, the kind tone of Gandalf’s voice making him feel guilty.  
  “I am as well as can be.” The hobbit muttered finally, keeping his eyes closed.  
  “Perhaps some tea then?”  
  It wasn’t what Gandalf had said that made Bilbo turn over to look at him sharply, it was the jovial tone of his voice.  
  Bilbo opened his mouth to berate the wizard on his unseemly attitude in the wake of Thorin’s death, but immediately shut it again, studying the wizard.  
  Although the aftermath of the battle was obvious in the tired lines on his face, Gandalf’s eyes sparkled in good humour, seeming lighter than they had in days.  
  “What’s happened?” Bilbo asked. After all, what he lacked in physical skill, he more than made up for in matters of the mind.  
  “I thought perhaps a nice cup of tea would steady your nerves before I told you, but I suppose there is no reason why I cannot inform you now.”  
   Bilbo supposed Gandalf’s words were meant to be reassuring, but instead he found himself tensing with foreboding. “Inform me of what?”  
  Gandalf’s face broke into a wide grin then. “Thorin lives.”  
  Bilbo could only stare uncomprehendingly at the wizard, certain his mouth was agape. “I’m sorry?”  
  Gandalf chucked. “Thorin lives, Bilbo. The King was revived and the healers are sure he will make a full recovery.”  
  Something dangerously close to hope flared in the hobbit’s chest before it suddenly overcame him and without warning, tears were streaming down his face in never ending rivers.  
  “My dear boy, I thought you would be happy with this news?”  
  Bilbo’s smile was blinding. “Oh Gandalf! I am! I am!” And in the next instant, the wizard had an armful of overjoyed hobbit.

   
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  Bilbo later found out that he had been unconscious for the most part of three days due to a fever. Gandalf also informed him that the rest of the Company were awake and healing from the various injuries they had each received. It turned out that Thorin, Fíli and Kíli had sustained the worst; the young princes still unconscious, as was their uncle, but on the slow road to recovery.  
  Bilbo felt a bit guilty that he hadn’t gone to see the brothers before he had succumbed to his own wounds, but his joy at finding out they were alive soon overcame those feelings.  
  “May I see them?” Bilbo asked Gandalf once they had drained their cups of tea.  
  “I don’t see why it will be a problem. No doubt you will want to see the King as well.”  
  Bilbo hesitated before answering, nervously wringing his hands together. He did want to see Thorin, more than anything, but the memory of Thorin’s goodbye was still painfully fresh in Bilbo’s mind. “Yes.” He said finally. “Of course.”  
  After taking a moment to freshen up and wash his face, mindful of the bandage around his head, Bilbo and Gandalf left the tent and made their way towards the one where Fíli and Kíli had been moved after Thorin’s almost death.  
  The tent was not empty when they entered and Bilbo smiled when he saw Bofur whittling away in the far corner.  
  “Bilbo!” The toymaker cried with a wide grin when he spotted them. “How are you? I heard that the fever had quite the hold over you for a while.”  
  Bilbo was touched by the dwarf’s concern. “I am much better now, thank you Bofur. And how did you fare in the Battle?”  
  The toymaker waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing but a few cuts and bruises. It will take more than an army of orc’s to truly injure me.”  
  Bilbo tried to laugh at that, but it was weak and came out sounding more like a wheeze.  
  Gandalf’s chuckle also seemed quite strained before he addressed Bofur. “Come now, Master Dwarf. Let us leave our burglar to see the young princes in peace.”  
  They left soon after and Bilbo finally looked upon the sleeping forms before him.  
  It was odd and entirely unnerving to see the usually boisterous duo so silent and still, but as he gazed upon their pale faces, he was just purely grateful that they had lived. The thought, the very idea of never hearing them joke, or playing tricks again was inconceivable, and entirely too painful to dwell over.    
  Bilbo spent a good long while just sitting on the stool placed between the two prince’s cots, alternating between washing their fevered brows and humming a tune well known in the Shire.  
  It was almost nightfall when the hobbit emerged from the prince’s tent and he wasn’t surprised when he saw Gandalf waiting for him.  
  Before the hobbit could voice his need and want to see Thorin, which after spending the afternoon with the King’s nephews had grown unbearably, Gandalf was herding Bilbo towards a hot meal and a look that he wasn’t to be argued with.  
  His stomach full, Bilbo finally walked up to Thorin’s tent a little while later.  
  Dwalin was standing outside exactly as he had been those few days earlier, but instead of going straight inside, Bilbo hesitated.  
  “Is he-is-is he…alright?” The hobbit knew that it sounded like a silly question, but Dwalin thankfully didn’t point that out.  
  “Go and see him, Bilbo. Thorin would like knowing that you’re by his side.”  
  Bilbo fought to keep the shock of his face at the usually gruff dwarf’s statement, but only nodded in greater confusion before walking into the tent.  
  What exactly had Dwalin meant by that?  
  All thoughts fled from Bilbo’s mind then at the sight of Thorin lying so pale on the cot.  
  _He almost looks dead._ Bilbo couldn’t help but think, swallowing thickly before moving to stand beside the King.  
  Perhaps Bilbo should have been wary of Thorin after the incident at the Gate, but the hobbit knew that the King hadn’t been in his right mind, too overcome with the Gold Sickness to see sense. But if Thorin’s last words were any indication, the King had finally broken free from the illness that had invaded his mind.  
  Bilbo prayed with everything he had that the same could be said for when Thorin finally awoke.  
  Clutching at the King’s cool hand, Bilbo sighed, feeling the tears pricking behind his eyes.  
  “Don’t ever do that again.” He murmured, his voice suddenly choked with emotion. “Don’t you dare leave me. Do you hear me, Thorin Oakenshield? You will never die again!”    
  Of course there was no indication that the King had heard his words, he remained utterly still and pale. Bilbo bowed his head, his forehead pressing lightly against the skin of Thorin’s arm.  
  The sudden need to tell Thorin that he loved him was on the tip of Bilbo’s tongue, but he didn’t utter those words, couldn’t. Not yet.  
  Instead, the hobbit lifted his head and gazed at the sleeping King, inhaling deeply.  
  “Wake soon, Thorin. I-we wish to see you well.” Bilbo took one last look at the King and unable to stop himself, pressed a kiss to his brow before leaving the tent.

 

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

  Three days later, Thorin, Fíli and Kíli still had not awoken and Bilbo found himself falling into somewhat of a routine.  
  After breakfast, but before lunch - the hobbit’s usual eating habits being quite impossible with the rationing - Bilbo would spend time with the two princes. Óin was hopeful that they at least would wake soon, both brothers gaining more colour to their skin with each passing day. The same could not be said for Thorin.  
  “How is he, Óin?” Bilbo asked as he entered the King’s tent early that afternoon, just like he had every day prior.  
  The healer sighed. “No change, laddie.”  
  Bilbo sat on the stool that had been placed beside Thorin’s bedside looked at the sleeping King morosely. “Is there anything I can do to help?”  
  “What was that, laddie?” Óin said, holding his trumpet to his ear.  
  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Bilbo repeated in a volume considerably louder.  
  “Well actually, I was just about to try and get some broth in him. Ye could give me a hand.”  
  Bilbo nodded and stood. “Of course.”  
  “We’ll need to sit him up a bit first, lest he choke.”  
  Suddenly Dwalin appeared in the tent and without a word, carefully lifted Thorin’s torso, easily holding his weight.  
  Bilbo figured that the taller dwarf had been listening in and tried not to think about what else he might have overheard - namely Bilbo’s one-sided conversations with the King. But soon enough, all thoughts of his discomfort fled from his mind as the three of them set about getting the much needed sustenance into Thorin.  
  Feeding the King in his unconscious state was something that Bilbo never wanted to do again. More than once, the hobbit had been afraid Thorin would drown in the broth, but with Óin’s careful massaging of the King’s throat, it had all thankfully gone down. By the time the healer declared that Thorin had had enough, Bilbo’s palms were sweating profusely.     
  Dwalin left soon after and Óin turned to Bilbo. “Now then, laddie. I need to check his wounds and re-bandage them. Could ye get me a bucket of water?”  
  Bilbo did as asked and when he returned almost dropped the pail in his horror.  
  In his absence, Óin had removed the furs and bandages that had been wrapped around the King‘s chest, leaving the sight of his ravaged flesh open to view.  
  Multiple lacerations decorated Thorin’s skin, several bright red in the throes of infection. But what caused the hobbit horror more than those, was the large wound that dominated the centre of his chest. It had been sewn closed, but Bilbo didn’t need to imagine the depths or damage that it has caused.  
  “How is he alive?” The hobbit breathed, his eyes wide and face surely pale.  
  Surprisingly, Óin had heard him and briefly patted his shoulder before taking the bucket from Bilbo’s numb grasp. “Thorin is strong. Stronger than most, Bilbo. Now come, let us clean and cover his wounds before the infections have a chance to grow.”  
  Under the watchful eye of Óin, Bilbo helped to clean Thorin’s wounds before applying healing salve and rebinding his chest.  
  Once they had completed their task, Óin left to attend to the other wounded and Bilbo relay the furs over Thorin, before taking up his perch beside the King.    
  With no one else in the tent, Bilbo took his time to truly look at Thorin. The King’s face was still deathly pale, even more obviously so since the blood and dirt had been washed from his skin.  
  Bilbo leant forward and placed a hand on his brow, before carding his fingers through the wild mass of his hair. He noted the almost matted quality of Thorin’s mane and was unable to resist the urge to brush his hair.  
  Retrieving a small comb from the table beside the King’s cot, Bilbo set about carefully untangling the strands, even going as far as to undo Thorin’s braids, placing his clasps in a small bowl for safekeeping.  
  Bilbo sat quietly beside Thorin for the rest of the afternoon, Balin having kept the hobbit company for a while before returning to the duties he had undertaken in the King’s absence.  
  It was as dusk began to fall that Bilbo’s peace was shattered.  
  “Bilbo! Bilbo!”  
  The hobbit looked up startled as Bofur rushed into the tent, clutching his absurd hat in place when it threatened to fall off.  
  “Bofur!” Bilbo exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “Whatever is the matter?”  
  “Oh Bilbo!” The toymaker cheered, panting in exertion. “The most wonderful news! Fíli is awake!”  
  The hobbit blinked several times before his face split into a wide grin. “Truly?”  
  “Yes! Come. Come on, let us go see him.”  
  Bilbo took once last look at Thorin, taking a moment to brush his fingers across the dwarf’s cheek, before leaving the tent; Bofur having already left in his excitement.

  
  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  
  Fíli was indeed awake when Bilbo entered the prince’s tent. All of the Company were present to welcome the older brother back to the land of consciousness, well all except Dwalin who understandably didn’t leave Thorin’s side.  
  “Stand back the lot of you, give the prince some room to breathe.” Grumbled Óin as he bustled around Fíli’s bedside. “I meant it!” He glared when everyone ignored him.  
  Fíli gave a tired smile and Bilbo thought that the prince might have rolled his eyes at the healer’s over protectiveness.  
  “How are you feeling, Fíli?” Balin asked.  
  “I’ve been worse.” Fíli replied, causing the gathered dwarves to chuckle and Bilbo to frown.  
  “It’s good to have you back, lad.” The relief on the old dwarf’s face was unmistakable.  
  Fíli frowned then, casting a look at Kíli‘s sleeping form. “How is my brother?”  
  “No worse or better than you are.” Balin said.  
  Óin snorted at that. “Aye. I daresay that our young prince will soon awaken now that his brother has.” He frowned. “If for nothing else other than to cause mischief.”  
  The Company, including Bilbo, openly laughed at that. How true those words were.  
  “Can we get ye anything, lad?” Glóin asked.  
  Fíli’s face visibly brightened at that. “Some food?” He asked hopefully.  
  The Company laughed again, pleased to hear that the prince was feeling well enough to be hungry.  
  “I’ll get something.” Bombur said and swiftly left, no doubt to sneak a helping for himself as well.  
  The good humour continued for a while, the Company in high spirits as they informed Fíli on everything he had missed while he’d been asleep. Even Óin, whom had been trying to dutifully care for the prince while tripping over a dwarf at every turn, was in good cheer - at least until Bombur came back.  
  Fíli immediately tried to sit when the rotund dwarf returned baring a bowl of stew and let out a sudden gasp, his face twisting in pain.  
  “Right! That’s it. Everyone out.” The healer barked, placing a restraining hand upon the prince’s shoulder. “And you, lie back. I don’t need you to reopen your wounds because of your thoughtlessness.”  
  Of course, none of the dwarves listened to the healer, too concerned for their prince to pay him much mind. But they soon paid attention when Óin brandished his trumpet and hit several of the Company of the head. “Out, the lot of you! You can see Fíli tomorrow.”  
  This time the Company listened, not wanting to face the healer’s wrath - or his trumpet - and soon they were dutifully filling out of the tent, muttering their goodbyes as they went.  
  A while later, after Bilbo had filled his stomach, he returned to Thorin’s tent.  
  The hobbit once again sat beside the King and laid a hand upon Thorin’s still one. “Fíli is awake.” He told to the dwarf softly, uncaring to the fact that Thorin couldn’t hear him. “The Company believe that Kíli will also awaken soon.” The hobbit chuckled quietly. “No doubt that they will be running circles around Óin when that day comes.” Bilbo sighed then, gripping Thorin’s hand tighter in his own. “Well the hour is late. I will see you tomorrow, my King. Goodnight.” Bilbo stood and before leaving, brushed a kiss to Thorin’s brow as had become customary.     
  Later that night as Bilbo tucked himself beneath his blanket, he smiled; his heart feeling a bit lighter than it had in days.  
  
  
To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

  In the week since The Battle Of The Five Armies good old Balin, always the diplomat, had managed to talk his way into procuring peace between the dwarves, men and elves…at least for the time being. The informal treaty was still somewhat strained, and apart from the camp being divided in three, the races lived alongside one another with relative ease.  
  On this morning however, Bilbo couldn’t help but notice that the dwarven camp was in noticeably high spirits, barely a dark look directed towards the elves at all. It seemed that the news had spread that the Crown Prince had awoken.  
  Bilbo, who had been visiting Óin to get his head bandage removed, stretched as he made his way towards the dinning tent. However, his plan was soon foiled when he was intercepted by Gandalf.  
  “Bilbo, my dear fellow. How are you today?” The wizard asked from where he sat on a discarded barrel, pipe in hand.    
  “Very well thank you, Gandalf. It seems to be a cheery morning.”  
  The taller man gave a small smile. “Indeed. I believe that our dwarf companions are relieved to know that the Durin line is recovering.”  
  Bilbo nodded. “I quite agree. Now then, I was about to get some breakfast, would you care to join me?”  
  “That sounds agreeable. However, first I wondered if I might have a word with you.”  
  The hobbit raised an eyebrow somewhat warily. The wizard could be unpredictable at the best of times, a ‘conversation’ often turning into something far greater - like stealing from a dragon. “Oh?”  
  “Don’t look so worried, my dear hobbit, I was merely going to enquire as to whether you had written to your relatives to let them know where you are and that you’re well.”    
  Bilbo couldn’t help but furrow his brow in confusion.  
  “Was I wrong in thinking that you might being staying with our dwarf companions for a little longer?” Gandalf added, studying the hobbit’s expression.  
  Bilbo tried not to let his frown deepen or to shift uncomfortably under the wizard‘s knowing gaze. “Well-I…hadn’t really thought about it to be honest. Writing I mean.” It didn’t need to be said that Bilbo had indeed planned to stay…but for how long he couldn’t say.  
  Gandalf stood and looked down at the hobbit with an expression that could only be described as fond exasperation. “Well I think it’s a good idea if you did think about it, my friend. Do doubt your various cousin’s will be stricken with worry by now.”  
  Now that Bilbo thought about it he realised that Gandalf was right and felt slightly guilty. “That’s a fine idea. I shall write to them after breakfast, except Lobelia. No doubt that dreadful woman is glad I’m gone. Probably has both of her eyes set on Bag End, if not moved in already.” He said crossly.  
  Gandalf tried to hide his chuckle behind a cough, but Bilbo noticed and scowled up at the wizard.  
  Unfazed Gandalf took a puff on his pipe. “Well now that that matter is settled, shall we endeavour to find some breakfast?”  
  This managed to suitably distract the hobbit and the duo set off with the intention of doing just that.

  
  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  
   As promised, Bilbo sent his letters off after breakfast and couldn’t help but briefly wonder what his relatives must think of him running off with a company of dwarves. His reputation must have been in tatters by now, but the more that Bilbo thought about it, he came to realise that in fact he didn’t care. Very unbecoming of a hobbit indeed, but he figured that the dwarves were rubbing off on him. It would have been entirely untruthful to say that he minded.  
  A little while later, as Bilbo was making his way towards Fíli and Kíli’s tent for his morning visit, he noticed a large gathering of dwarves and it gave him pause, wondering what was going on.  
  A familiar tri-peaked hairstyle caught his eye and he quickly headed for the dwarf. “Nori!” Bilbo called. “What’s going on?” The hobbit couldn’t help the unease that curled in his stomach, his imagination running wild with thoughts of another threat approaching on the Mountain.  
  Some of these thoughts must have shown on Bilbo’s face, for when the dwarf turned he hastened to reassure the hobbit. “Calm yourself, Master Burglar. Balin has simply called forth all those who are in good enough health to start with the rebuilding of Erebor.”  
  “Oh!” Bilbo was both surprised and relieved. “Wonderful news! Will they begin today?”  
  The dwarf shook his head. “’Tis simply a scouting party in order to map out the damage that needs repairing.”  
  “Is there anything I can do to help?”  
  Nori smiled at the hobbit. “You’ll have to ask Balin.”  
  Bilbo nodded, but before he could say anything further the dwarves began to head out for the Mountain, Nori quickly saying his goodbyes before following.  
  Bilbo couldn’t help but wonder whether Thorin would be disappointed to miss the beginning of the rebuilding of his kingdom, or pleased that Balin had organised such an endeavour so quickly. Bilbo decided that the King would be pleased and continued on his way to the prince’s tent.  
  As Bilbo pushed through the tent’s flaps, he almost called out in greeting, but choked it back at the sight before him.  
  Both of the prince’s lay asleep, which wasn’t an usual sight, but what gave the hobbit pause was the fact that they both lay on the very edges of their cots, facing one another in identical curled positions. It seemed even in sleep the princes sought out the comfort of the other and Bilbo found himself silently backing out of the tent, his heart utterly warmed.  
  With a smile on his face, Bilbo decided that it wouldn’t hurt to visit Thorin earlier than normal.

  
  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  
   “You dare to presume the worst before it has already happened?!”  
  Bilbo, who had been approaching Thorin’s tent, stopped short. If he was not mistaken that sounded very much like Balin. Kind, sweet old Balin whom Bilbo had never heard raise his voice, let alone sound so incredibly angry.  
  Bilbo turned his wide eyed gaze to Dwalin and the hobbit noted the tight set of the dwarf’s shoulders.  
  “We must prepare for the worst! Ye know this.” And that shout sounded very much like Dáin Ironfoot.  
  “What I know Dáin, is that Thorin is unconscious while recovering from his wounds. Don’t try to bury him before his time has come.”  
  Balin’s words caused the hobbit’s mouth to drop open in a very undignified manner before he snapped it shut again, his hands curling into involuntary fists under the sudden surge of his anger.  
  “No one is trying to bury Thorin, ye old coot!” Dáin yelled. “All I said was that if Thorin doesn’t wake, we must have a plan. A kingdom without its King is a vulnerable one.”  
  “You think that I do not know this?“ Balin growled. “You seem to forget however, that the Durin line is secure in the Crown Prince and his brother.”  
  Dáin made a rude noise. “Ye think that Fíli and Kíli are ready to rule Erebor? They’re barely into adulthood!”  
  “Fíli has been trained to be King since the day he was born. Thorin made sure of this-”  
  “Do ye honestly think that the dwarves will follow him, a mere boy?” Dáin interrupted.  
  “Yes, I do. He is an heir of Durin and thus the throne will pass to him. Any who oppose his right to rule will in danger of committing treason.” Bilbo had never heard Balin’s voice sound so low and menacing.  
  There was several moments of pregnant silence in which Bilbo imagined the two of them staring the other down.  
  “Fine.” Dáin finally growled. “Have it your way. I was only suggesting that if the time came, that I could step in-”  
  “I believe we are done with this conversation, Lord Ironfoot.”  
  Suddenly there was a loud crash and Bilbo jumped, Dwalin on the other hand had retrieved his axe and was advancing on the tent opening faster than Bilbo could blink.  
  Before the dwarf had made it three steps, Dáin suddenly appeared and shoved past the warrior, his heavy boots pounding against the dry dirt as he stomped away.  
  Bilbo watched his retreating back for a moment, his gaze wary and full of suspicion, before he entered Thorin’s tent, Dwalin having already disappeared inside.  
  The first thing that Bilbo saw was the brothers sharing an embrace, their foreheads pressed together. He hovered awkwardly near the tent flaps for a moment before going over to his usual perch beside Thorin.  
  “Are you alright, Balin?” He asked softly once the brothers broke apart.  
  The old dwarf sighed. “I’ve been better, laddie, but thank you.”  
  Bilbo nodded and looked over Thorin’s sleeping form. He tried to prevent it, but unease had wormed it’s way through the hobbit’s heart. “He will wake, won’t he Balin?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.  
  Bilbo felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Balin, who gazed sadly down at the King. “Of course he will, laddie. Don’t let Dáin make you doubt it.”  
  
To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

  It was exactly two days after Fíli awoke that Kíli followed his brother into consciousness.  
  Bilbo, who had been bringing a broth to the elder brother, had almost dropped the bowl when the Fíli had suddenly shouted Kíli’s name.  
  “Kíli?” The elder questioned when the younger only groaned and clutched his head.  
  “Must you yell so, brother.” Came the muffled reply.  
  “Kíli!” The relief in Fíli’s voice was palpable.  
  Bilbo quickly put the broth down and sat on the edge of the younger brother’s cot. “How are you feeling, Kíli?” He asked softly.  
  “Like I’ve been run through by a pack of orcs.” He replied sourly, causing his brother to laugh heartily.  
  “He is fine. Thank Mahal for that.”  
  Bilbo couldn’t agree more. “I’ll get Óin.” And he quickly left to find the healer.  
  When they returned Óin was less than pleased. “What are ye doing out of bed, lad!” He cried the moment they entered the tent. “Are ye trying to do yourself more injury?”  
  Bilbo was not surprised and greatly amused to see that Fíli was indeed out of bed and sitting next to his brother.  
  Before Fíli even had a chance to defend himself, the healer had a hold of his ear and was forcibly dragging the elder brother back to his own cot, and not without protest.  
  “Pipe down, lad. If you reopen those stitches, I’ll be the death of you myself.”  
  Bilbo bit his lip in an effort not to chortle and moved forward to help Óin put the prince back into bed, drawing the furs up and over him once he was laying down.  
  “You are both acting like I am nothing but a mere dwarfling.” He grumbled.  
  “Well stop acting like one.” Óin replied and Bilbo thought that perhaps the healer’s ears were sharper than they all thought.  
  “And you!” Óin snapped, turning to face the younger prince when he failed to smother a laugh. “Don’t encourage him.”  
  Kíli’s eyes widened. “Me? What did I do?”  
  “Oh don’t give me that nonsense. Besides I can always separate you. And don’t think I won’t do it.” The healer threatened.  
  “Oi-” Kíli started only to be interrupted by his brother.  
  “Now wait a minute-” Who was then interrupted by the arrival of Balin.  
  “Our young princes giving you trouble already, Óin?” The older dwarf asked from where he stood in front of the tent flaps.  
  The healer puffed out an indignant blow of air. “Aye. Awake all of five minutes and already causing mischief, just like I said.”  
  “Well it warms my old bones to see that our princes are well enough to be causing trouble.” Balin smiled even as the young prince grimaced under Óin’s hand when the healer started to inspect his wounds.  
  Once Óin had finished cleaning and rebinding them, Kíli was paler than before, but seemed to take strength from the fact that his brother was awake and beside him.  
  Naturally, word spread quickly about the young prince awakening and soon the tent was once again filled with the members of the Company and even a few of Dáin’s soldiers.  
  Bilbo quickly found the crowded space a bit too confining, and after the third time his feet were stepped on, bid the princes fair well and escaped into the fresh air.  
  The hobbit was making his way towards his own tent when he was once again met with Gandalf.  
  “Ah Bilbo.” The wizard greeted. “It’s a fine chance that I ran into you.”  
  “Oh, why’s that?”  
  “I’ve just received a reply from the letters that you sent.”  
  The hobbits eyebrow’s rose at that, having not really expected a reply, especially not this quickly.  
  “Here we are.” Gandalf said, pressing a solitary letter into the hobbit’s hands.  
  Bilbo looked at the cream envelope for a moment before remembering his manners. “Thank you, Gandalf.”  
  “It was no problem, my friend. Now I best be off, I heard that our youngest prince had finally awoken. Good day.”  
  Bilbo said goodbye to the wizard and thanked him once more before rushing back to his tent.  
  Once inside he didn’t waste any time and quickly opened the envelope, pulling out the neatly written letter.  
  It was from his cousin, Drogo.  
  The other hobbit may have been a few years younger than Bilbo, but they had always had a close relationship and Bilbo was glad to hear from him.  
  Reading the letter, Bilbo found that he wasn’t surprised by its contents. Drogo informed him that most of The Shire thought him dead or gone mad, and that he’d had to defend Bag End from Lobelia on more than one occasion.  
  “Dreadful woman!” Bilbo grumbled, pacing in irritation over the fact she couldn’t keep her hands to herself.  
  The hobbit briefly thought about the ways in which he could thank his cousin, before returning his attention to the letter.  
  Drogo wrote of the happenings within The Shire and Bilbo found that like always, nothing seemed to have changed. What did come as somewhat of a shock however, was the news that Drogo was to be married in the coming months. Even more shocking was the fact his cousin had asked him to return to The Shire and bare whiteness to his wedding.  
  Bilbo sat heavily upon his bed, reading and rereading his cousin’s words. He hung his head and sighed. “Drat.”  
  
  
To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

  No matter how hard Bilbo tried, sleep would simply not come to him that night. After several hours of lying restless in his cot, he decided to get up and take a walk, hoping that the fresh air would help to clear his head.    
  It came of no surprise however, when the hobbit found himself standing outside Thorin’s tent.  
  Fiddling with the buttons on his waist coat absentmindedly, Bilbo exhaled sharply causing his cheeks to puff out with the effort.  
  The surrounding camp was silent, so when Bilbo heard the sound of a throat clearing loudly behind him, he couldn’t help but jump in surprise.  
  “Easy, lad. I didn’t mean to scare you.”  
  Bilbo pressed a hand to his chest in an effort to calm the racing of his heart. “Dwalin.” He breathed in relief, not realising that the dwarf had been standing hidden in shadow. He frowned then. “Don’t you ever take the time to rest?”  
  His scarred eyebrow rose. “What do ye think? Now tell me, what brings you here at this time of night?”  
  “I couldn’t sleep.” Bilbo admitted, running a hand through his hair.  
  Dwalin grunted. “I’m sure Óin could help ye with that.”  
  Bilbo sighed. “It’s not that. I just have a lot on my mind.”  
  The dwarf was silent for a moment and Bilbo noticed the way he subtly  shifted from one foot to the other. This somewhat amused the hobbit, never expecting a dwarf like Dwalin to appear in discomfort.  
  “Do you…want to talk about it?” He asked slowly, his face visibly pinching at the thought.  
  Bilbo had to hold back the chuckle that threatened to overtake him. “No, that’s alright. I think I shall sit with Thorin for a while. Thank you though.”  
  The tension immediately drained from Dawlin’s face and he bowed his head in assent.  
  Soon after, Bilbo found himself sitting beside Thorin and he took his time to gaze at the unconscious dwarf - if he also happened to run his fingers through the dark lengths of Thorin’s hair, there was no one present to witness the act.  
  “I received a letter from my cousin, Drogo today.” The hobbit said softly. “He’s getting married. A little young some might say, but I have no doubt that he will be happy.” Bilbo paused before sighing heavily. “He wants me to return to The Shire for it and I-I don’t want to go.” He admitted shamefully, bowing his head. “My own cousin’s wedding and I can think nowhere less that I’d rather be.” Bilbo bit his lip. “It’s because I don’t want to leave of course…to leave you. Gah!” The hobbit abruptly stood and began to pace.  
  Bilbo would wonder later whether it was the worry over Thorin’s health, his lack of sleep, or a combination of both, but he suddenly found that he couldn’t contain his thoughts and they came tumbling from his mouth. “What if something happens to you while I’m gone? What if you never wake up? What if you die, _again_ , I might add. Or what if you _do_ wake up and I‘m not here?!” The hobbit realised he was almost yelling by this point and ran a hand over his face before continuing in a softer voice. “You know, you have never given me reason to think that your feelings towards me stretch beyond friendship, you barely even tolerated me when we first met, and then there was the Arkenstone business… But that aside, here I am utterly and hopelessly in lo-” Bilbo’s mouth shut with a clack of teeth and he forced himself to quietly return to the stool beside Thorin.  
  The hobbit hung his head in his hands and breathed deeply. “Perhaps if you were awake and I knew for certain that you would be alright, I may feel differently, but right now? I can’t stand the thought that you may never wake. Of course the Company are sure that you will, and logically I know that too, but I cant help but…worry.” Bilbo reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers against Thorin’s cheek. “I don’t know what to do, Thorin. Truthfully, of course I want to be there for Drogo’s wedding, but a bigger part of me wishes to stay. My heart is torn. What can one do when they need and want to be in two places at once?”

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  “You’re leaving?!” Fíli and Kíli exclaimed in tandem and Bilbo winced at the shrill quality lacing their voices.  
  “I didn’t say that.” The hobbit said stubbornly. “I said-”  
  “That you’re going.” Kíli interrupted, looking quite forlorn.  
  Bilbo sighed. “I didn’t expressly say that I’m leaving. I said that I’m thinking about it. My cousin is getting married and has invited me to his wedding. I haven‘t decided anything.”  
  “But what about Thorin?” Fíli asked.    
  “ _Fíli._ ” Balin warned gently.  
  “But what if you don’t come back? You are coming back, aren’t you?” Kíli asked in concern.  
  Bilbo felt a pang in his chest and moved to sit on the edge of the young prince’s bed. “Of course I am.” And the hobbit meant it, he also hoped his words would be reassuring, but Kíli didn’t looked mollified in the slightest.    
  “When you leave-”  
  “ _If._ ” Bilbo interrupted.  
  “-for how long will you be gone?” The elder brother finished.  
  Bilbo pondered this for a moment. “I’m not sure. With unhindered travel? A few months maybe.” And with those words out loud, Bilbo felt a pang in his chest of a different nature. The idea of being away from Thorin, and the Company, for that long was painful to think about.  
  “Months?!” Kíli gasped.  
  “Remember lads that this is Bilbo’s kin.” Balin said, always the voice of reason. “Would you take away Bilbo’s chance to see his family happy?”  
  Both brother’s looked down wearing identical expressions of shame. “No.” They muttered.  
  “Besides,” Bilbo said. “I haven’t decided whether I’m going or not yet.”  
  The two princes looked at him sceptically, while Balin’s expression remained impassive.

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  It took three days, but Bilbo finally came to a decision.  
  He was leaving.  
  As much as it pained him to do so, as much as he didn’t want to leave Thorin, he couldn’t overcome the guilt he felt at missing such an important moment in his cousin’s life. Marriage was not taken lightly in The Shire and the Baggins’ half of Bilbo finally won the battle over his conflict.  
  To say that the Company where upset when they found out that their Burglar was leaving, was somewhat of an understatement. Bifur, with whom Bilbo had never been close, surprised the hobbit the most when he had swept Bilbo up into a bone-crushing embrace. Bofur, Ori Bomber, Balin and the princes had reacted in much the same way, the rest of the Company were somewhat more reserved, but it was no less emotional.  
  Gandalf had kindly agreed to escort Bilbo back to The Shire, but not before pacifying the Company with promises to return with their Burglar in tow.  
  However, the worst goodbye that Bilbo had to make was to Thorin.  
  The next day, but an hour before the hobbit and wizard were due to leave, Bilbo stood next to the King, a hand cupped around the dwarf’s cheek.  
  “I will be back, Thorin Oakenshield.” The hobbit whispered into the mass of dark hair, his voice cracking with emotion. “I promise. And a Baggins’ never breaks his word.” Bilbo didn’t try to stop the tears that rolled silently down his cheeks and he pressed his face further into Thorin’s mane, breathing in the scent of the dwarf.  
  Bilbo wasn’t sure how long he stood like that, but all too soon the hobbit drew back and gazed down at the King. “I’ll see you soon.” He whispered, pressing one last kiss to Thorin’s temple and leaving with a lingering look at the sleeping dwarf.    
  The Company were all gathered outside to bid them farewell, and Bilbo was thankful that none of them questioned the wetness of his cheeks.  
  Soon Bilbo was sat astride a pony laden with supplies and The Lonely Mountain began to shrink into the distance as he and Gandalf began their long journey back to The Shire.

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  It had been less than four days since Bilbo’s departure and Balin was reviewing the plans on rebuilding Erebor, when he was suddenly interrupted by Óin rushing into his tent.  
  “Óin, what is it?” The older dwarf asked in concern.  
  The healers face was red from exertion, a wide grin spread across his face. “The King is awake.”

 

To be continued...


	7. Chapter 7

  “Thorin?”  
  Thorin Oakenshield felt nothing but pain. His arms and legs were heavy and aching, the fire in his chest easily comparing to that which Smaug had wrought upon his people.  
  The King groaned and struggled to open his eyes, his lids feeling swollen and unused. Light briefly seared his vision before he slammed them closed again.  
  “Thorin?”  
  Someone was calling his name once more and the King forced his eyes to open, mere slits against the unforgiving light.  
  “Can yer hear me, lad?”  
  Óin’s unfocused form appeared in his line of sight and with effort he gave the barest nod of his head.  
  “Thank Mahal.” The healer breathed and Thorin felt a hand rest upon his arm. “Water?”  
  Again, Thorin managed another small nod and Óin disappeared, returning with a cup.  
  “Right, careful now.” The healer placed his hand under the King’s neck and gently lifted his head, placing the cup against his dry lips.  
  Water dribbled into Thorin’s mouth and with some effort, he managed to swallow the precious drops, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat.  
  “Easy does it.” Óin cautioned, removing the cup and replacing Thorin’s head against the pillow. “Can I get ye anything else?”  
  “B-Bil-” Thorin’s voice was scratchy from disuse and he cleared his throat before trying again. “Bilbo.” The King was desperate to see the hobbit. His last memory, before he blackness overtook him, was of speaking to the smaller man. He remembered thinking that he’d never see him again, thought that he’d never be able to make up for his abominable actions towards the halfling, remembered the blood on his face. “Is-is he-”  
  “He’s fine, lad.” Óin’s words were smoothing, but Thorin grew wary of something in the undertone of his voice.  
  “I wish to see him.” The King managed in little more than a whisper, the effort it took to talk sapping what little energy he had left.  
  The healer’s hand gripped his shoulder and he felt a gentle squeeze. “I’ll get Balin.” And he left before Thorin could protest.  
  By the time Óin had returned with Balin, Thorin was already asleep.

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
It was almost a week before Thorin could stay awake for more than a few moments at a time, but each day he gained a little strength, and lost more patience.  
  Why had the halfling not come to see him? Was Bilbo avoiding Thorin? Had his Company even told him that the King was awake? He was sure they must have. After all, each time Thorin woke, one of them was always present.  
  Today when the King opened his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of his nephews. It was the first time that Thorin had seen them since the Battle and his heart warmed at the sight of them alive and well.  
  “My sister-sons.”  
  Immediately they were at his side, wide grin’s spread across both of their faces. “Uncle!” Kíli exclaimed.  
  “It is good to see you both well.” Thorin didn’t try to hide the pride and relief in his voice and reached a hand out so that they could both clasp it.  
  “And you, uncle.” Fíli said.  
  “You both fought well and have done our people proud.” Thorin smiled when they both stood a little straighter, chests puffing out.  
  “Now tell me, where is the hobbit.”  
  The brothers shared a glance and Thorin narrowed his eyes.  
  “ _Fíli. Kíli._ ” He warned, tightening the hold he had on their hands.    
  “Bilbo is fine.” Fíli said at last.  
  “I am already aware of the state of his health.” Thorin fought to keep his voice even. “But what I do not know, is where he is and why he hasn’t come.”  
  Kíli licked his lips in apparent unease and shifted his weight.  
  “ _Kíli._ ” Thorin growled, his own growing sense of unease causing his temper to fray.  
  The younger brother made a pained expression. “He…he-”  
  “Ah Thorin!”  
  The brothers suddenly jumped back at the interruption and Thorin gave a grunt of pain as his arm thumped unceremoniously back onto the bed, jolting his chest.  
  “Balin.” He acknowledged, eyeing his sister-sons with suspicion at the relieved look on both of their face’s.  
  “It’s good to see our young princes are finally out of bed.” The old dwarf said before chuckling. “Óin had nearly lost all hope of that.”  
  The brothers almost looked affronted by that, before feeling the weight of their uncle’s gaze once again, and hastily retreating from the tent.  
  Balin frowned, but before he could voice his question, the King spoke.  
  “Where’s Bilbo?”  
  The old dwarf sighed. “Ah.”  
  Thorin couldn’t suppress his irritation as it rose. “My Company has expertly managed to avoid answering me for the last week, and now my patience has run out. Where. Is. He?”  
  To see Balin in a such sudden and obvious discomfort, was the most unnerving thing to the King.  
  “Well, you see Thorin…he, well…”  
  Thorin felt his eyes narrow. “ _Balin._ ”  
  The old dwarf sighed and looked down. “He’s gone home, laddie.”

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  Meanwhile, far to the west, Bilbo and Gandalf rode on. Without the multitude of delays the Company had encountered on their way to Erebor, the hobbit and wizard had made their journey almost as far as Bree.  
  “Cheer up, my dear Bilbo! In a few more days we will be back in Hobbiton.” Gandalf said in an attempt to lift Bilbo’s spirits.  
  The hobbit in question managed a small smile, but his heart was growing in weight with every step he took further away from The Lonely Mountain, from Thorin.  
  “I am sure you are excited to see Drogo and your other cousins.” The wizard tried again.  
  Bilbo sighed. “Of course, I just can’t help but miss…”  
  “Thorin?” Gandalf helpfully supplied.  
  Another sigh, his one heavier than the first. “Yes. And the rest of the Company…they’ve become almost like family to me.”  
  Gandalf smothered his smile and gazed down upon the hobbit fondly. “And I’m sure that they feel the same, Bilbo.”  
  Bilbo only nodded silently for a moment, before looking up at the wizard. “Will you take me back, after Drogo’s wedding I mean?”  
  Gandalf looked at Bilbo for a small length of time. “Are you sure you’ll want to go back? After all, I seem to remember a hobbit who dearly missed his home, his books,” The wizard smiled. “his handkerchiefs. Once you’re home, are you sure you’ll want to leave that all behind again?”  
  Bilbo sighed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”  
  
  
To be continued… 


	8. Chapter 8

  Thorin felt his face drain of blood as he stared at Balin. “What did you say?” He whispered with horror.  
  The old dwarf bit back a sigh and sat down warily upon a stool. “Bilbo’s gone home, back to The Shire.”  
  Thorin’s breath rushed from his lungs even as his heart began to pound.  
  Bilbo had left.  
  Left him.  
  As he tried to inhale, Thorin realised that it had suddenly become hard to breathe. His chest felt tight, his lung’s burning for air, but those discomforts paled in comparison to the way his heart wrenched painfully in his chest.  
  Thorin clenched in jaw in a effort to keep those emotions from his face, though he undoubtedly failed, and levelled a look at Balin. “When?” And a more important question; “Why?”  
  “Some eleven moons ago.” The other dwarf answered. “His cousin Drogo is to be wed.”  
  Thorin said nothing to that, couldn’t, too tangled within his emotions to be able to form a reply.  
  So that was it then. The halfling was gone and Thorin would never see him again. Never again look upon his smile. The way the wind moved through his curls. Never again be able gaze upon his face when he thought no one was looking. Would never get to tell him of the feelings Thorin had harboured for the hobbit, feelings that had first started with respect and friendship from that moment upon the Carrock, but had steadily grown into something far greater.  
  Thorin swallowed thickly and clenched his fist.  
  “He did say that he would return, laddie.”  
  Thorin wrenched his gaze to Balin’s and pinned him with a glare. “Do not be so sure of that, old friend. He is back where he has always wanted to be. Back with his books, his garden, his armchair, with other hobbits of the same mind.” He sighed and looked away. “He will not return for he has nothing here.”  
  Balin regarded Thorin with a knowing look the King did not understand. “I would not be so sure of that.”  
  Thorin frowned. “Speak plainly, Balin.”  
  “Well…” Balin paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “if you think that he has nothing here, perhaps you would not be opposed to change that for him?”  
  Thorin considered those words for a moment, but deep down, he already knew that his mind had been made up from the moment Balin had told him Bilbo was gone. “Saddle my horse.”   

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  A day later, Bilbo and Gandalf had finally reached The Shire. As they trotted towards Hobbiton, they were met with curious stares and many a whisper behind raised hands or over hedge-tops .  
  Bilbo shifted uncomfortably atop his pony. He hadn’t expected any less of his fellow hobbits, but found that he couldn’t help but loathe the attention.  
   Gandalf rode next to Bilbo, the wizard didn’t try to engage him in conversation, simply puffed away on his pipe and the hobbit was grateful for his silence.  
  Soon they were riding into the heart of Hobbiton and a familiar green door could be seen on the hill in the distance.  
  Bilbo felt his heart pang and was suddenly overcome with the need to see his home, to be surrounded by all that he knew.  
  If Bilbo sped his pony up, Gandalf didn’t comment, simply kept pace beside his smaller companion.  
  Bilbo was vaguely aware of the shocked gasps emitted from several of his neighbours at his unexpected reappearance, but he paid them no mind. It was terribly rude of him, the Baggins within somewhat outraged by his behaviour, but that voice had become noticeably smaller since the Trollshaws, the Carrock, Mirkwood, Lake-Town and Erebor, not to mention the Battle.  
  After several impatient moments, Bilbo and Gandalf had at last reached Bag End.  
  Bilbo slid from his pony and tethered her to the fence.  
  As he was pushing open the gate, he noticed that his garden was neatly pruned and rather orderly, not at all the overgrown mess he had expected. It seemed that Hamfast Gamgee had continued to attend to his garden in his absence. Bilbo made a mental note to do something nice in thanks for his gardener and then climbed the few steps up to his home.    
  His large, round front door looked almost exactly the same, save for the slightly worn paint and Bilbo couldn’t help but take a moment to stroke his hand down the familiar green wood.  
  The hobbit soon became aware of Gandalf’s approaching footfalls and quickly twisted the brass doorknob, opening his door for the first time in over a year.  
  Bilbo stepped hesitantly into his hall and shouldn’t have been surprised by the fact that everything looked exactly the same, save for the fine layer of dust that covered all of his possessions.  
  He made his way into the parlour and sat heavily upon a chair, the cloud of dust emitted causing him to sneeze.  
  “Ah Bilbo, I would imagine you are quite glad to be home.” Gandalf said, coming to stand next to the hobbit and resting a hand on his shoulder.  
  “Yes. Of course.” The hobbit said, but suddenly wondered if that was exactly true. He _was_ glad to be back in Bag End, but it suddenly felt rather empty, rather lacking in life.  
  Bilbo shook himself. It must have been a more tiring journey than he realised.  
  “I’m afraid I have nothing in.” The hobbit said, although that was surely obvious. “I’ll need to go to the market. Perhaps it would be best if you acquired a room at the inn until I have Bag End in some sort of order.”  
  Gandalf chuckled. “Of course, my dear fellow. I will call upon you in the morning. Try to get some rest. Good day.”  
  Bilbo smiled, albeit tiredly, up at the wizard and he left soon after, leaving the hobbit to sit alone amongst the dust and his thoughts.

  
   
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  It was the next evening before Bilbo had gotten Bag End into a semblance of what it once was. He’d managed to clear the dust from most of the rooms and had restocked his pantry in the anticipation of the coming weeks that he would be staying here.  
  With Gandalf’s arrival in time for dinner immanent at any moment, Bilbo quickly set to work on preparing a meal made from the fresh potatoes, vegetables and beef he had procured from the market earlier that morning.    
  Immersed in his cooking, the hobbit almost missed the sharp rap at his front door and hastily scurried along the hallway to open it.  
  “My word!” Gandalf exclaimed once he saw the hobbit. “My dear Bilbo, it’s looks as though you haven’t managed to catch even one hour of sleep.”  
  The hobbit smiled sheepishly up at the wizard. “There was so much to do and I couldn’t bare to leave it.” He explained, but that wasn’t entirely true. Bilbo had tried to sleep, but found that he hadn’t been able to calm his mind from the thoughts of his friends and Thorin and the many miles that stretched between them.  
  “Well no matter, I shall sleep tonight.” Bilbo continued. “Now come in, come in! Dinner is almost ready.”  
  The hobbit and wizard made their way into the kitchen and Bilbo set about serving up their dinner and fetching a bottle of wine from the cellar to accompany it.  
  Gandalf was greatly pleased to be eating something that wasn’t stew and made his appreciation known several times throughout the meal.  
  After Bilbo had cleaned the dishes and put them way, they adjourned to the parlour and sat comfortably in front of the hearth, smoking on their pipes.  
  Bilbo couldn’t deny that he missed the Company terribly, especially Thorin, but as Gandalf regaled Bilbo of his times spent with the Old Took, the hobbit found himself more relaxed than he could recall in the last year.  
  When Bilbo retired to bed later that evening, he fell instantly, and more than willingly, into a dreamless sleep.  
  
  
To be continued… 


	9. Chapter 9

  Bilbo had been back in The Shire for exactly a week and his arrival, as well as his original departure, was still very much the talk of Hobbiton. Bilbo had taken to staying in doors, not wanting to face the gossip or ridicule of his fellow hobbits. But more or less, Bilbo found that his life had returned to much the same as it had been before the quest to reclaim Erebor.  
  Once he woke, he would have breakfast, bathe, eat second breakfast and would then smoke his pipe in the garden. Next came elevenses and after, if he was so inclined, would partake in a spot of writing. One o’clock bought lunch, more smoking and perhaps he would read a book or two which was, of course, interrupted by afternoon tea. This was then followed by chores, dinner, another quiet moment to smoke and finally, super and bed.  
  Bilbo Baggins had never felt so thoroughly bored.  
  He missed the dwarves. Missed the sense of companionship, of family.  
  Of course Bilbo had family in The Shire, his cousin Drogo had been particularly happy when he had found out the hobbit had returned to his hole, but there was something suddenly lacking in the prim and proper way of hobbit life. A certain lack of manners, of dirty footprints, of chaos and a lack of the rude, loud and rambunctious nature that he had so detested at first, but had grown accustomed to - dare he even say, fond of.  
  Bilbo found that his life in The Shire was no longer the fulfilling experience it had once been and suddenly found himself craving the unexpected, craving adventure.  
  What made everything that much worse, was when Gandalf had left.  
  The wizard had bid his goodbyes to Bilbo some three days prior, with promises to return in time for Drogo’s wedding. Bag End was suddenly suffocatingly still and quiet.

  
   
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
_Bilbo felt heavy arms settle around his waist and turned to face the dwarf who had captured his heart._  
_“My hobbit.” Thorin whispered, cupping Bilbo’s cheek and brushing a thumb across his lower lip._  
_Bilbo smiled and leaned into the King’s touch, gazing up into the eyes that were usually so cold and distant, but now looked upon him so softly._  
_Suddenly the dwarf drew back, a frown creasing his brow. “Why did you leave me? Leave me when I needed you most?”_  
_Bilbo sucked in a harsh breath. “I-I didn’t-”_  
_“I was wounded and unconscious and you left!” The King spat, withdrawing from the hobbit even further._  
_“Thorin, please.” The hobbit begged, his chest suddenly hollow as he moved closer, only for the dwarf to step away once more._  
_“You think I believe that you care for me?” He asked in disbelief._  
_Bilbo could feel the tears gathering in his eyes. “I-I do care! I lo-”_  
_“Lies!” Thorin growled and turned his back on the halfling._  
_Before Bilbo could say anything, a deafening roar turned his head and he was suddenly frozen in fear as a huge warg leapt through the air and landed on the King with enough force to shake the ground._  
_“Thorin!” The scream tore from the hobbit’s throat as he lurched forward, running towards the fallen dwarf and withdrawing Sting from it’s sheath._  
_Before Bilbo could plunge his sword into the beast, the warg turned on him and growled, before suddenly, and unexpectedly, running off._  
_Bilbo didn’t spare the creature a glance, falling to his knee’s beside the King as he lay motionless on the ground._  
_“Thorin?” The hobbit rolled the dwarf onto his back, a sob catching in his chest when he saw that the warg’s teeth had torn through the King’s flesh._  
_“B-Bilbo.” Thorin coughed and the red of his blood marred his lips. “Forgive me.” He rasped._  
  Bilbo suddenly sat up with a cry and exhaled a shaken breath. It took the hobbit several moments before he could fully realise that he was in fact safe in his bed in Bag End and that it had only been a horrible dream. But it had felt so real, too real.  
  Bilbo curled his knee’s into his chest and rested his head upon them. It wasn’t the first nightmare that Bilbo had had since returning to The Shire, but it had been by far the most vivid and easily set about igniting the guilt he had tried to bury ever since he had left Erebor.    
  The hobbit was inconsolable for the rest of the morning, not that there was anyone around to see him mope about in such a state. His black mood was however, interrupted after lunchtime.  
  Drogo and wife-to-be, Primula Brandybuck came to visit, their idle chatter over cups of tea and a various selection of cakes was somewhat of a comfort to the hobbit, but all too soon Bilbo noticed the subtle glances. At first he thought nothing of it, but once he took a moment to reflect over the words he had uttered, he realised how coarse, crude and almost boarding on the uncivilised some of his comments had been. Very un-hobbit like indeed.    
  They bid him good afternoon not long after and left Bilbo with a small degree of shame and a parting that promised to see him at their wedding in two weeks time. Later, when he was alone, Bilbo wondered how he would cope under the scrutiny of nearly the entire Shire, but suddenly realised that he didn’t care as much as he should and found that it invigorated him.  
  Within the next fortnight, Bilbo left the security of his home often and took great pride in ignoring the gossip and whispers that followed him. ‘Mad Baggins’ he’d heard uttered on more than one occasion, and although Bilbo was slightly affronted at first, found more humour in those murmurs than perhaps the situation warranted.  
  For once, Gandalf had been predictable in his assessment that Bilbo would be changed, and he was grateful.  
  On the eve of his cousin’s wedding, Bilbo was barely dreading it at all.  
  
To be continued… 


	10. Chapter 10

  Hobbit weddings, although taken very seriously, probably seemed quite informal in the eyes of men, elves and maybe even dwarves.  
  There were no real words declaring love or commitment, those were saved for the privacy afforded from behind closed doors. Instead, the groom would make a wreath of flowers to place upon his intended’s head. Every flower had a different meaning, and if Bilbo had never run away with Thorin‘s Company, he would have been so proper as to have blushed at the sight of Drogo’s wreath, filled with such emotion and passion as it was.  
  Hobbit’s, both from Hobbiton and Buckland, where Primula lived and Drogo was soon to move to, gathered in a wide circle around the couple as they completed the placing of the wreath. The ceremony ended with a kiss of acceptance from Primula and a deafening cheer arose from the crowd, before the couple were showered in the petals of every flower found in The Shire.  
  As the sun began to sink below the horizon, the hobbits moved into The Party Field were garlands of flowers had been hung on every hedge, fence, table and chair. Dozens of lanterns had been strung from the trees and candles placed on every flat surface.  
  All too soon, the wine began to flow and the music carried the hobbits to their feet.  
  Bilbo was sat at a table off to the side and he smiled warmly as Drogo and Primula approached him.  
  “Congratulations, my dear cousins. I am sure you will both be very happy.” And Bilbo stood to embrace them both.  
  “We will be.” Primula said with a large smile as she withdrew from the hug. “Wasn’t the ceremony just wonderful?”  
  “It really was.” Bilbo agreed earnestly.  
  “And this wreath!” She exclaimed. “Isn’t it just the finest one you have ever lain your eyes upon?”  
  Before Bilbo had the chance to reply, Drogo clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Ah, cousin, this is truly life. Never have I felt such happiness. If only you could be this happy, I am sure you would not feel inclined to run off again.”  
  Bilbo laughed nervously and picked up his glass, suddenly feeling really rather thirsty.    
  “I very much think that married life would suit you well.” Drogo continued. “Now all we need to do is find you a nice hobbit lass.”  
  Bilbo choked and very nearly spat out his drink. “Oh, um…well-” Bilbo wheezed, trying in vain to clear his airways.    
  “Perhaps you may even find your future bride tonight, after all it is not only Hobbiton present, but Buckland as well. I certainly found my happiness beyond this village.” And he gave his wife a meaningful smile.  
  Bilbo was still trying, and failing, to form a coherent sentence when Drogo suddenly gripped his arm. “Come, dear cousin. How ever will you manage to find yourself a maiden if you sit alone at this table.” And with that Drogo began to drag Bilbo towards the heart of the celebrations, not listening to any one of his protests, weakly thought though they were.  
  Bilbo found that the rest of the night was akin to his own personal torture as he found himself passed from partner to partner, dancing until he felt as though he couldn’t take a single more step. His rescue came in the from of Gandalf, late though he may have been, and Bilbo very nearly hugged the wizard in relief.  
  Soon, fireworks had the attention of every hobbit present and Bilbo made his escape.  
  The road was quiet on his trudge back to Bag End, his mind addled with wine and his sight struggling to focus in the dim light.  
  Because of this, he missed the fact that his garden gate was wide open and it was only as he began to climb the steps to his front door, did he see the solitary figure standing shrouded in shadow. Whomever it was, they stood with their back to Bilbo and hooded-cloak drawn.    
  The hobbit paused and took a moment to wonder who on Middle Earth could be visiting him at such an impolite hour of the night. “Excuse me? But can I help you?” He asked somewhat nervously, suddenly feeling rather exposed without the weight of Sting at his hip.  
  The figured turned then and withdrew their hood, exposing the long dark hair that was streaked with grey.  
  “Master Baggins. I am in need of a burglar.”  
  Bilbo gasped and fell back a step in his shock. “Thorin?”

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
    “T-Thorin!” Bilbo exclaimed with wide eyes when he realised that the dwarf wasn’t in fact a figment of his imagination.  
  The King took a step towards the hobbit and Bilbo found his heart quickening as he looked into Thorin’s eyes for the first time since the King’s goodbye - almost close enough to two months ago for it to count as such.  
  “I had feared that you would not come home.” Thorin‘s voice was low as he took yet another step closer to Bilbo.  
  “I-I was at my cousin’s wedding and I was not expecting company.” Thorin stood incredibly close to Bilbo now and the smaller man felt his cheeks heat under the King’s penetrating gaze.  
  “I hope that I am not intruding then?” He asked softly.  
  “Intru-not at all!” Bilbo was aghast. “You will always be welcome here, Thorin.” He insisted earnestly before suddenly throwing his hand up between them. “Wait! How are you even here? You were unconscious last I saw you.”  
  The King gave Bilbo an amused, yet wary smile. “I would have been here sooner had Balin not forcibly insisted that I remain in bed to further recover from my wounds.”  
  Bilbo felt his eyes narrow at that. “Thorin Oakenshield you had better not be telling me that you travelled half way across the world while still suffering the Battle’s after effects!”  
  “I am well enough, Bilbo.”  
  The hobbit fought the urge to grind his teeth, but couldn’t help but mutter; “Stubborn dwarves.”  
  Thorin laughed then and Bilbo thought that his heart would stop at the sight.  
  “Why _did_ you come?” He asked softly.  
  Bilbo didn’t understand the expression that came over the King’s face then, but his caused his heart to pound once more, almost leaping into his throat in it’s excitement.  
  Thorin bowed his head for a moment before looking Bilbo directly in the eye. “I needed to see you.”  
  The hobbit swallowed thickly. “Why?” He breathed. “You’ve only just reclaimed your home.”  
  “Fíli, with Balin’s assistance, is more than capable to oversee Erebor in my absence. And after I was told you had returned to The Shire, I was…afraid that I’d never see you again. There is much to say.”  
  “I was planning to return.” Bilbo said softly, an unbidden hope rising in his chest.  
  The King gave him a dry look. “I was told, but I admit that I did not believe you would willingly leave again.”  
  Bilbo looked out over Hobbiton. “As much as I love The Shire and Bag End. It no longer feels like home.” He admitted softly and turned at the feel of a hand upon his arm, Thorin’s skin so very warm against his own.  
  “You will always have a home in Erebor, Bilbo. You have done me and mine a great service.”  
  “Oh. Yes, of course.” Bilbo felt suddenly very foolish. Foolish for hoping for anything more than friendship when it was so painfully clear that Thorin’s appearance was due to nothing more than gratitude.  
  Bilbo went to take a step away from the dwarf king, but was stopped when Thorin’s hand tightened upon his arm.  
  “Wait. I did not come all of this way merely out of thanks. Bilbo-I…” The King trailed off and briefly closed his eyes before reopening them and pinning the hobbit under the weight of his intense gaze.  
  Bilbo felt like he couldn’t breathe as the King’s calloused hand came up to cup his cheek.  
  Neither one dared to move nor breathe for what seemed like an infinite amount of time.  
  But then, Thorin lowered his head and pressed his lips to Bilbo’s.  
  
  
To be continued…


	11. Chapter 11

  The hobbit stood utterly still in the shock of feeling Thorin’s mouth upon his own, then Bilbo closed his eyes and took a moment to simply feel. To feel how warm and slightly chapped the King’s lips were and the hobbit thought that nothing had ever felt quite so wonderful.  
  The spell of shock broke a moment later and Bilbo surged forward with a vigour that should certainly have embarrassed the hobbit, had he not been already so overcome with emotion. Elation, relief and no small amount of pure thrill were but to name a few.  
  The King merely groaned against Bilbo’s lips and a moment later, the hobbit felt the weight of arms settle around his waist before he was abruptly lifted from the floor.  
  Bilbo gasped in surprise, but quickly threw his arms around the drawf’s neck, plunging his fingers into the wild mane that was Thorin’s hair.  
  The King continued to kiss the hobbit with a fervour that stole his breath and curled his toes, until Thorin finally drew back and pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s.  
  Thorin inhaled deeply and the hobbit felt more than heard the King’s soft laugh. “Ah Bilbo, my hobbit.” He breathed and with those words, Bilbo felt his heart expand and warm.  
  The hobbit eventually pulled back and Thorin released his hold to allow Bilbo to stand before the King.  
  The hobbit reached up and ran a hand across the dwarf’s stubbled jaw. “I had feared you would not wake.” He admitted in a whisper.  
  Bilbo felt the tug on his hair as the King stroked a hand through his curls.  
  “But I did and here I am.” Thorin inhaled deeply. “Bilbo, I…we must speak about my behaviour towards you-”  
  Bilbo lay a hand over the King’s mouth, effectively cutting off his words. “There is nothing to speak about, Thorin. I forgive you, let it lay to rest and let us move on with the future.”  
  Bilbo saw the relief in the King’s eyes and felt the smile behind his hand, in the next instant he found himself back in Thorin‘s arms, the King‘s mouth sealing over his as he carried Bilbo into Bag End.

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  The next morning Bilbo awoke groggily, but as he remembered falling asleep in Thorin’s arms the night before, the hobbit found himself very much awake and then realised he was also very much alone.  
  Bilbo frowned, his heart suddenly aching. Had it all been a dream then? He groaned and rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow. As he inhaled deeply he was overcome with the scent of wood smoke, the tang of metal and something that was just unmistakably _Thorin_. He grinned. No, not at dream at all.  
  “You are awake.”  
  Bilbo turned at the voice and couldn’t help his smile at the sight of the King leaning against the doorframe. Free from his heavy furs, Thorin wore a simple tunic and breaches, the thin fabric doing little to hide the dwarf’s heavily corded arms.  
  Bilbo had to look away, suddenly feeling quite shy and unexplainably warm. A moment later, he felt the bed dip and a finger under his chin as the King turned the hobbit’s head to look at him.  
  “Bilbo?” Thorin questioned softly, and Bilbo was sure the dwarf had noticed his suddenly flaming cheeks.  
  “I-I…” Words failed the hobbit and he smiled sheepishly.  
  Thorin frowned. “Do you…regret-”  
  Bilbo’s eyes widened. “What? No! No, of course not!”  
  The King’s fingers spread to cup the hobbit’s cheek. “Then what is it, amrâlimê?”  
  Bilbo had no idea what Thorin had said, but it made his heart swell nonetheless. “I-I was…” Suddenly flushed with embarrassment, the hobbit hid his face against the King’s chest. “I was admiring you.” He admitted quietly.  
  Thorin laughed then and Bilbo thought that he’d never heard the dwarf sound so utterly relaxed and full of joy.  
  He could stop himself from looking up to witness it and a breath later, Thorin’s mouth covered his own.  
  Bilbo couldn’t be sure how it happened, but he found himself pressed into the bed, Thorin’s body a welcome weight against his as the King devoured his mouth.  
  Bilbo plunged his fingers into the rich black hair and gasped as a calloused hand found it’s way under his night shirt and stroked the skin along his ribs.  
  Bilbo burned hot all over, feeling warmer than he ever had in his entire life. Unable to resist, he gripped the hem of Thorin’s tunic and had the offending cloth up and over the King’s head in the next moment.  
  The hobbit’s hands explored down the muscled planes of exposed flesh, frowning only slightly at the scarred and puckered flesh, still healing and tender. Thorin groaned against his mouth before burying his head in the crook of the Bilbo’s shoulder.  
  “We must stop, amrâlimê.” Thorin muttered, his breath ghosting across Bilbo’s ear causing the hobbit to shiver.  
  Bilbo’s tookish side came to the forefront and the hobbit wasn’t even embarrassed by his boldness when he asked; “Why?” A little more than simply breathless.  
  Thorin nipped briefly at the soft skin of Bilbo’s neck before answering. “Else I will not be able to stop and some things are worth waiting for.” He pressed a kiss just below Bilbo’s ear and withdrew from the hobbit with a sigh. “Come, my hobbit. There is much to speak about.” And Bilbo tried to suppress a groan of frustration when the King gathered his tunic and left Bilbo alone in his bedroom.     
  Several minutes later, Bilbo was dressed and had followed Thorin into the kitchen. Now that some of the warmth had left him, Bilbo felt greatly embarrassed by his display of wantonness and quickly set about to make a pot of tea and some breakfast for the both of them.  
  It was not a moment later that Bilbo felt the King’s arms around his waist and he smiled, leaning back against Thorin’s larger frame.  
  “I must return to the Mountain soon.” The King murmured in his ear and Bilbo felt suddenly apprehensive as he turned to face Thorin.  
  “When?” He asked, biting at his lip.  
  “At the next dawn.” Thorin’s mouth curved into a small smile and he looked down for a moment. “I…had hoped that you would return with me.”  
  Bilbo felt joy expand in his chest and threw his arms around the King. “Yes Thorin! Nothing would make me happier.”   

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  It turned out that Dwalin, Glóin and Nori had accompanied Thorin to The Shire and had been staying at the inn while Thorin had come to convince the hobbit to return with them. After a happy reunion, the three dwarves crowded into Bag End and helped the hobbit pack his belongings.  
  Drogo was less than pleased to find that Bilbo was leaving again, but was somewhat mollified when Bilbo informed him that Bag End was now his and that he would keep in touch with letters and the occasional visit.  
  Bilbo was somewhat saddened to be parting with his old home so finally, but he knew in his heart that he would never again live in The Shire and it was a shame to leave such a perfectly good house to fall into ruin an abandon.  
  Thorin‘s proclamation of ‘the next dawn’ soon dissolved into two days, and on that morning Bilbo bid a tearful farewell to Drogo, Primula and his other relatives, before the four dwarves and one hobbit set off from Hobbiton for the final time…at least for a while.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	12. Chapter 12

  As the company of five approached upon Erebor, Bilbo was somewhat surprised to see that out of the many tents previously occupying the land, now only a handful remained.  
  “The elves have returned to Mirkwood, and the men to Dale.” Thorin explained when the hobbit had voiced the question.  
  “What about Dáin’s army? Have they also returned to the Iron Hills?” Bilbo noticed a lack of dwarven presence as well.  
  “Indeed not.” Thorin’s lips curved into a small smile. “More have arrived to help in the rebuilding of Erebor. They are within the Mountain.”  
  “Oh.” Bilbo’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I had no idea that the work was moving along so quickly.”  
  A quiet chuckle. “Well you are in for a shock then, Master Baggins. For us dwarves-”  
  “ _My word!_ ” The hobbit suddenly exclaimed as they finally rode into sight of Erebor‘s gates. Where as before the gates had lain in ruin, a gaping hole torn into the front of the mountain, now they were repaired. It was obvious the work had been hurried, evident in the unmatched and simplistic stonework, but the fact they were _whole_ was a wonder in itself.  
  Bilbo gaped in shock. “H-how?”  
  “We are a stubborn race.” Glóin said with a slight laugh. “We can get anything done if we put our minds to it. Best ye remember that, lad.”  
  “Indeed.” Bilbo breathed out. His awed gaze didn’t move from the Mountain until he had no choice but to direct his pony between the tents, lest he ride into them.  
  There were only a small amount of dwarves on the slope approaching Erebor and Bilbo noticed how each one bowed dutifully to their king as he rode past.  
  Thorin gave a small nod in return at these displays of fealty, his face impassive, but the hobbit noticed the tightened set of his jaw and idly wondered if they made Thorin uncomfortable. After all, the King may have been a prince once, and quite used to such displays, but it had been many a year since Thorin’s presence had been shown such respect.  
  However, these thoughts were soon banished from Bilbo’s mind as a sudden stampede came hurtling out of Erebor.  
  The hobbit barely had time to brace himself before his pony was overcome by nine stomping, yelling and over-enthusiastic dwarves.  
  “Bilbo! You came back!” Kíli hollered, even though he was now standing beside the hobbit. Bilbo winced at his volume and at the sudden hard pat against his shoulder - courtesy of his brother. “It is good to have our burglar back.” The elder prince added.  
  “Ah Bilbo! Finally here at last.” Bofur cheered, while Bifur spoke animatedly in Khuzdul next to the toymaker.  
  Bomber merely grinned at the hobbit and Ori too, before he and Dori went to greet their brother.  
  Óin waved and then went to fuss over Thorin and lastly Balin came forward, a twinkle in his eye. He lay a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder, and Bilbo was grateful it wasn’t as hard as Fíli’s grip had been. “It’s good to see ye back, laddie.” He said with a smile.  
  “It is good to be…home.” Bilbo smiled before gasping as he was suddenly hoisted from his pony and into the arms of Fíli and Kíli.  
  “You hear that, brother?” The elder asked, ignoring the hobbit‘s demands to be set down.  
  “Aye I did!” Grinned the younger prince. “Our burglar is _home_. A proper welcome should be had I think.” And they began to carry to hobbit toward the mountain, unaffected by the slight fists that pounded upon their backs.  
  The brothers had barely managed to carry Bilbo into the Mountain before Thorin finally came to the red-faced hobbit’s rescue.  
  After being returned to solid ground, Bilbo cursed the princes with a slew of - mostly - empty threats and the King dutifully listened to his outraged burglar with a perfectly straight face, not daring to show his inner amusement.  
  “Have no fear,” Thorin eventually interrupted. “my sister-sons simply meant that a feast will be held in honour of our return.”  
  Bilbo opened his mouth to yell once more, but quickly shut it again with a click of teeth. He smiled rather hesitantly up at Thorin then and quietly asked; “Food?” causing the King to laugh heartily.  
  “Indeed, Master Baggins. Now come.” Thorin murmured lower into the hobbit’s ear. “There is something I wish to show you.”  
  After a moment, Bilbo conceded and Thorin led the hobbit towards the royal wing.

  
   
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
“So much of the Mountain has been cleared.” Bilbo said in wonder as he walked beside Thorin.  
  “Much more than expected was left untouched.” The King replied, sounding sincerely happy with that discovery.  
  “I am glad. Now where are we?”  
  Thorin’s lips curved the barest amount as he guided the hobbit through the vast halls and into the royal wing. “These are the royal chambers.” He explained, leading the hobbit towards the largest set of rooms. “These rooms were my grandfathers, and now mine.”  
  “They are beautiful.” Bilbo breathed, taking in the intricate stone work and ancient, albeit dusty, furniture.  
  Thorin pushed open a door and Bilbo was suddenly confronted with the largest bed he’d ever seen. It stood tall and proud before the hearth, it’s stone structure pillaring towards the ceiling, carved with fine detail.  
  “This is my sleeping chamber.” Thorin said and stood beside the fire, looking back at the hobbit with an unreadable expression.  
  Bilbo felt his heart increase in speed and licked his suddenly dry lips. “It, er…appears that someone has been cleaning.” Bilbo bit the inside of his mouth. His words had been stupid, obviously so, yet the hobbit found himself suddenly nervous and lacking in things to say.  
  “I sent ahead word for this room to be cleaned.” Thorin took a step towards the hobbit before stopping, his hand clenching in his own apparent unease. “I…I had hoped, wondered really, if you would consider staying in these rooms. With me.”  
  Bilbo blinked at the King for a moment, before looking down and giving him a shy smile. “I would be honoured, Thorin.”  
  Five heavy booted strides later and the King’s furs came into Bilbo’s sight. Two fingers found their way under his chin and lifted his face towards the dwarf’s.  
  The kiss started out soft and slow, but before long Thorin had the hobbit’s body pressed quite flush with his own, their lips fusing together and tongues duelling for dominance.  
  So immersed in each other, they both failed to noticed the approaching steps, only when the sound of a stifled giggled reached their ears, did the hobbit jump back in sudden embarrassment.  
  Thorin’s gaze was more frigid than the deepest depths of Erebor. “Fíli. Kíli. I do hope you bring matters of importance.”    
  Kíli had the grace to look somewhat afraid, but his brother held onto his smirk as he addressed the dwarf and hobbit. “Uncle. Uncle Bilbo. Your feast awaits.”  
  Thorin was so warmed to hear Fíli’s term of endearment, that he forgot his anger at being interrupted and was soon guiding his hobbit and meddlesome nephews toward the dining hall, a small smile gracing his lips.  
  
  
To be continued… 


	13. Chapter 13

  The vast space of the dinning hall was filled with the sounds of eating, drinking and merriment. Thorin sat upon a carved throne in the centre of the large table heading the hall, the Company spread out on either side of him having been given honorary places for their loyalty to the King. Fíli, as heir, had taken the seat to Thorin’s right, while Bilbo had been placed to his left.  
  Bilbo couldn’t help but wonder if that was the reason why most of the Iron Hill dwarves had taken to staring at the hobbit.  
  By the time that Bilbo had started on his pudding of apple pie, the hobbit had reached the peek of his discomfort.  
  “Dwalin?” He said quietly, turning to face the warrior who sat at his left. “Everyone is staring.”  
  The dwarf raised a brow. “And?” The word barely intelligible through a mouthful of pie.  
  Bilbo idly stabbed at his own plate, glancing out across the hall and the faces staring back at him. “Why?”  
  Dwalin snorted. “Why do ye think, lad?”  
  Bilbo felt his discomfort morph into annoyance. “That’s why I’m asking you. Besides, it’s rude.”  
  The dwarf ginned then and Bilbo noted the pastry caught in his moustache. “Well you’d better get used to it.”  
  The hobbit resisted the urge to hit the obtuse dwarf over the head with his fork and scowled at him instead. “Can’t you just answer the question, Master Dwalin? Is it because I’m a hobbit?”  
  The warrior sighed and sat back in his chair, regarding Bilbo. “In part, but I suppose they are wondering why their King has chosen a hobbit as his-”  
  Bilbo never got the chance to hear what Dwalin was going to say as at that moment Thorin stood from his throne and the hall fell silent.  
  “Dwarves of the Blue Mountains and Iron Hills, tonight we sit in the halls of our forefathers. Reclaimed from the dragon Smaug and defended against an army of orcs. Tonight we dine, not in celebration of my return, not only for our victory, but in the memory of those who lost their lives.” The King bowed his head. “Let us drink and remember the lives of those who fell in the Fall of Erebor and the great Battle that saw our home returned to us.” Thorin raised his tankard and almost as a wave, the hall followed his lead. “Without the loyalty of every dwarf” He smiled briefly at Bilbo. “and hobbit here, as well as those who have passed on to the Halls of Awaiting, we would not have this victory.” Thorin suddenly yelled several words in Khuzdul and the hall erupted into a cheer that arose to a deafening crescendo before there was absolute silence as every dwarf raised their tankard to their lips.  
  Bilbo hastened to raise his own tankard and took a deep swallow before Thorin addressed the hall once more.  
  “My dwarves. My friends. My kin. There is but one more announcement that I make this eve.” Thorin looked at Bilbo then and gestured for the hobbit to stand.  
  Bilbo, suddenly feeling very nervous, with not a clue as to what Thorin was going to say, stood apprehensively.  
  “As many of you know, this here is Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit from The Shire and one of the Company who helped me and mine reclaim Erebor. Without his loyalty, courage and quick mind I have no shame in admitting that we would most likely have failed in our quest. It is with great honour and happiness that I present to you the future Consort Under the Mountain.”

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  Bilbo wasn’t sure how he’d managed to last the rest of dinner, the sound of his blood still thundered in his ears as he wandered into an empty room not far from the dinning hall.  
  Looking around, the hobbit thought that the room resembled a type of parlour and gratefully sat upon one of the chairs littering the room.  
  Consort. Bilbo supposed it made sense, after all, Thorin had asked him to live in Erebor, had asked the hobbit to share his chambers. So why was Bilbo so surprised by the King’s announcement?  
  Perhaps it was because there had been no declaration of intent, of emotion thus far, and they certainly hadn’t spoken about what exactly they ‘were’ at all.  
  Bilbo scrubbed a hand over his face. What exactly did a consort do? The hobbit had heard of the title, but there wasn’t such a position in The Shire. Another concern was; would the dwarves even accept him?  
  The hobbit bit his lip, however, under all of his nerves and uncertainty, Bilbo suddenly found himself coming to a realisation. One that made his heart expand and warm.  
  Thorin loved him.  
  Of that Bilbo felt sure and it suddenly made him feel lighter than air.  
  He stood with the intentions to find the King, but his plans were thwarted when the door suddenly burst open and the Company came pouring in.  
  “Bilbo!” Bofur exclaimed, reaching the hobbit first. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”  
  “Congratulations, lad.” That was Óin.  
  “So you’re really staying?” Ori asked at the same time Dori said; “An expert burglar indeed.” But it was uttered good naturedly.  
  “I always knew it!” Bombur declared.  
  “About time, too.” Added Balin, a smile that couldn’t only be described as smug gracing his mouth.  
  Before Bilbo could utter a single reply to any of them, he was suddenly swept up in a crushing embrace by Bifur, who almost deafened the hobbit by yelling Khuzdul in his ear.  
  “Oi! Share our hobbit!” Kíli moaned and Bilbo found himself wrenched from the axed dwarf and into the prince’s arms for the second time that day.  
  Dwalin was the one who unexpectedly came to the hobbit‘s rescue this time with a gruff; “Give the lad a chance to breathe." and suddenly Bilbo found himself dwarf embrace free.  
  “The three of you already knew, didn’t you!” Bofur accused, pointing a finger at Dwalin, Glóin and Nori.  
  The red-haired dwarf snorted. “Hard not ta’ when they were making eyes at each other the whole way back to Erebor.”  
  At this the princes dissolved into laugher and clutched at each other in their mirth.  
  “May I ask what is so funny?” Thorin asked, stepping into the room and causing his nephews to laugh that much harder.  
  “No-nothing, uncle!” Kíli declared through his amusement, before he and his brother wisely chose to leave, their chuckles resounding against stone behind them.  
  Thorin merely raised a brow at their display before turning to Bilbo, eyes softening at the sight of his hobbit.  
  “Shall we retire, Master Baggins? It has been a long day after all.”  
  Bilbo couldn’t help but smile gratefully and stepped forward, gripping the arm that was offered to him.

  
   
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  “I hope you did not mind my announcement of our courtship.” Thorin said the moment they stepped into the royal chambers. “You seemed quite surprised.”  
  “I was.” Bilbo said honestly. “I did not realise that we were formally courting.”  
  Thorin frowned. “I would have thought it obvious. Though I admit I may have forgone some of the formalities. Are you…if you do not-”  
  Bilbo, realising the King’s train of thought, rushed over and cupped his face. “Thorin Oakenshield, how could I not want to court you? I was surprised is all, but to know that you are mine and I, yours? That is exactly what I want.”  
  The King cupped the hobbit’s face in return then and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, before drawing away and moving to the chest at the foot of the bed.  
  “I had these made before I left in the hopes that my feelings would be requited and that you would return with me to Erebor.” And Thorin turned back to Bilbo, a small wooden box clutched in his hands. He opened the lid then and nestled in the soft blue silk were four small beads.  
  The hobbit moved closer and was awed by the beautiful and intricate craftsmanship.  
  “These are made of mithril and are beads of courtship. They would mark you as my intended and future Consort. Do you accept?”  
  “Accept?” Bilbo asked aghast. “Of course, you silly dwarf! Don’t you know that I love you?” Bilbo sucked in a shocked breath, having finally said the words he had longed to say.  
  Thorin’s smile was blinding, but before Bilbo could admire it, Thorin set down the box and swept the hobbit into his arms, kissing him with a passion that he had not yet felt from the King.  
  Suddenly, the hobbit’s back met with the soft coverings of the bed and Thorin finally drew away from the kiss, gazing down at Bilbo, hair like a curtain around them.  
  “You, my hobbit, have captured my heart. And to know that these feelings are returned is the most precious thing. I love you Bilbo Baggins. Now and for the rest of my days.”  
  
To be continued…


	14. Chapter 14

  It had been two years since the Battle of the Five Armies and life within the Lonely Mountain had been kind and fulfilling for Thorin Oakenshield and his intended, Bilbo Baggins.  
  Since Erebor had been reclaimed, dwarven caravans from the Blue Mountains and Iron Hills had been steadily streaming past the gates, bringing with them fresh food and crops to fill the farmland that had been cultivated upon the Mountain’s slopes. As for Erebor itself, Thrór’s kingdom had almost been completely returned to its former glory once more, an impossibility without the many skilled hands that had arrived at the Mountain.  
  Dale, with the help of Thorin and his dwarves, had also been mostly rebuilt and trade between the City and Erebor was once again beginning to bloom.  
  Of a more personal nature, Thorin was a great king. Just and honourable, the King Under The Mountain was respected by all, however his future Consort was still somewhat of a controversial subject for a few.  
  “No, Thorin!” The hobbit snapped, unable to keep himself from pacing their personal chambers.  
  The King sighed. “Bilbo-”  
  “Don’t ‘Bilbo’ me. I _will not_ have a guard follow my every move.”  
  Thorin scrubbed a hand over his beard, still kept short in remembrance of those who fell in the Fall of Erebor and the Battle. “It is necessary, amrâlimê. There are some dwarves who would look upon you as a threat to this kingdom.”  
  Bilbo made a rude noise. “I’m a hobbit. What on Middle Earth sort of threat could _I_ pose?”  
  “I do not mean a physical threat. But we dwarves are a very secretive race-”  
  Bilbo faced the King, hands on hips. “I am more than _fully_ aware of that, Thorin. Most have come to accept me, you know this. With new caravans arriving each week they only need a little time. There is no reason for such extreme measures.”    
  The King regarded his future Consort with clenched teeth, trying in vein to keep his infamous temper securely under control. “I will not take a single chance with your safety.”  
  “Oh the stubbornness of dwarves! Thorin, I do not need, do not want, and will _not_ accept a guard!”  
  The King stood then and spoke with a calm he didn‘t feel. “This is not up for debate. You will be assigned a guard, end of discussion.” Thorin turned from the hobbit and stomped towards the door of their chambers. However, he abruptly stopped at the feel of something hitting the back of his head and turned. He glanced momentarily at the loose button that now lay at his feet, before meeting Bilbo’s defiant gaze with a glare of his own.  
  “I am not one of your subjects, Thorin.” The hobbit said quietly.  
  The King’s face was impassive, save for the fire burning in his eyes. “I am aware of that, but under this mountain I am King and my word, law. You will have a guard. That is the end of it.” And Thorin stomped from the room, missing the tears of frustration that brimmed in his intended’s eyes.  
  Bilbo sank into an armchair once the door slammed closed and ran a hand through his hair. “Well that could have gone better.” He muttered.  
  The hobbit perhaps should have been ashamed of his actions, but Thorin had always taunted Bilbo’s emotions to the surface, whether it be in anger, happiness, or passion. Not that they’d actually consummated their love yet, that was to be saved for the night of their marriage, not two months away.  
  However, even with Bilbo’s feelings burning around the King, and Thorin’s emotions brighter still, the hobbit and his King rarely exchanged words in anger. In fact, Bilbo could say that this was their first proper argument.  
  It felt awful.  
  The hobbit’s shoulders slumped as his anger drained away and it left him feeling saddened and desolate.  
  _Damnable dwarves and their stubbornness._ Bilbo thought bleakly, before abruptly rising from the chair and setting about cleaning his and Thorin’s chambers. Not that there was much to do, the maids employed to serve the royal family took care of that, but the hobbit felt marginally better having his mind occupied by menial tasks.  
  A small while later, Bilbo had run out of things to do and decided to visit his garden - always a calming experience.  
  Quickly changing into his gardening clothes, Bilbo opened the door to his chambers and very nearly slammed it closed again, the sight of his new guard incensing the hobbit all over again.    
  However, Bilbo held his head high and greeted said guard with as much dignity as he could muster, before following the now familiar halls and walkways towards the one space he could call entirely his own - trying obscenely hard to ignore the presence at his back the entire way.  
  When Bilbo had first mentioned the idea of having a garden to attend too, Thorin hadn’t been entirely comfortable with the thought of the hobbit spending so much time beyond the safety of the Mountain. However, after much debate, the King conceded and had given Bilbo the outcropping next to the secret door they had originally used to gain entry into Erebor during the quest. Now of course, the outcropping was secured with a fence to prevent the hobbit from falling down the side of the mountain, but there was still plenty of light and Bilbo relished the time he could spend in the sun.  
  Opening the heavy door into his garden, the hobbit shielded his eyes against the sudden brightness, but was glad to finally breath deeply of the fresh air.  
  Bilbo was quickly up to his elbows in dirt as he prepared the soil for a fresh flower bed and before he realised it, an hour, or maybe two, had passed.  
  His peace was disrupted all too soon.  
  “Bilbo!” Fíli called, stepping from the darkened hall.    
  “What did you do to Uncle?” Kíli asked without preamble, not a step behind his brother.  
  The hobbit twisted to face the two princes and frowned at them. “What makes you say that?”  
  The youngest huffed in an indignant manner, but it was Fíli who answered. “His mood has been beyond foul this day.”  
  Bilbo wiped a hand across his brow, no doubt leaving muddy streaks in their wake. “We had a bit of a…disagreement this morning.”  
  “About?” Kíli prompted.  
  The hobbit rolled his eyes and resumed turning the soil. “Our King believes that I need a guard.” Bilbo could sense their identical frowns.  
  “And that’s a…problem?” The eldest said slowly.  
  The hobbit sighed and sat back on his heels, turning to face the princes once more. “Yes it’s a problem. I don’t need a guard. I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”  
  The brothers exchanged a brief look and Bilbo couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at them. “Do I need to remind you of the trails I undertook in our quest?” He asked dryly.    
  “Bilbo, I’m sure Thorin had good reason to set a guard on you.” Kíli finally said after a moment of silence.  
  “There are dwarves arriving that will not trust you yet for they are stuck with the old beliefs and need to protect our ways.” Fíli added.  
  “Do you resent Thorin for worrying over your safety?” Kíli finished before the hobbit could voice any words.  
  Bilbo bit at his lip. “No. I just don’t like to be thought of as weak.” He admitted in a mutter.  
  The prince’s knelt before the hobbit then and each took one of his hands in theirs. “No one will think you weak, Uncle. It is more common than you think for members of the royal family to be guarded.”  
  Bilbo regarded them sceptically. “Then why do neither of you have one? Or Thorin for that matter?”  
  “We take care of each other.” Fíli stated matter-of-factly. “And Dwalin is Thorin’s guard. You may not always see him accompany the King, but make no mistake, he is always near. Besides, I think that Thorin‘s motives run deeper than you think.”    
  The hobbit raised a brow. “How so?”  
  “Love.” The eldest said simply.  
  “We dwarves are stubborn, and even more so when it involves the one we love and their safety.” Kíli added.  
  Bilbo inhaled deeply, and thinking over what they said, felt for the first time that perhaps he had overreacted somewhat. “Fine. Fine.” He eventually conceded. “But I am still having words with our illustrious King.” Bilbo had certainly not forgotten Thorin’s parting words, and planned to speak to the King as soon as possible…perhaps knock him over the head to try and be rid of some of that stubbornness.  
  Fíli looked only partially relived at Bilbo’s words, but before he could say anything further on the matter, Kíli suddenly exclaimed; “Oh!” with a wide grin. “We forgot to tell you. Our mother will be arriving from the Blue Mountains within the week!”  
  Bilbo struggled for a moment over the abrupt subject change, but was silently grateful for it. “Dís?” He asked nervously, and having heard a lot about Thorin‘s sister, couldn’t help but be slightly anxious over meeting her.  
  Fíli grinned. “You’ll like her Bilbo! She’s a lot like Uncle, rough around the edges at first, but warm once she trusts you.”  
  The hobbit fought a grimace, remembering Thorin’s behaviour when they first met. “I’m sure she’s lovely. I cant wait to meet her.” He settled on finally, but his words were sincere.  
  Kíli snorted. “I don’t know if ‘lovely’ is quite the word I’d use to describe our Mother - OW!” Fíli had, of course, elbowed his brother at that.

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  Bilbo stayed in his garden for the rest of the afternoon, only returning when the sun began to dip below the horizon, alerting him that dinner would soon be served.  
  As the hobbit walked the distance back to his and Thorin’s chambers, he tried to convince himself that he hadn’t been trying to avoid the King, but couldn’t deny that he was somewhat apprehensive over the welcome he would receive.  
  Finally arriving, Bilbo cracked the door open and peered inside, the sight before him causing him to enter without caution and warming his heart.  
  Thorin sat in an armchair before the lowly lit hearth, his hair falling over his face as he slept.  
  On quiet feet, the hobbit approached the King and unable to help himself, brushed the hair out of his intended’s face and smoothed a hand across his brow.  
  Stupidly, Bilbo had forgotten how lightly Thorin often slept and suddenly found his wrist snatched up in a firm grasp, blue eyes snapping open to stare up coldly into his own.  
  Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the King’s frosty glare, but then they softened just as suddenly and the hobbit found himself dragged onto Thorin’s lap, heavy arms encasing his much smaller frame.  
  “Bilbo.” The King breathed. “Where have you been?” But it was asked without heat.  
  “I spent the afternoon in my garden.” The hobbit bit his lip nervously.  
  The King nodded and looked down for a moment, before meeting Bilbo’s eyes once more and running a hand softly through his curls. “I am sorry for my words this morning. I was simply worried for your safety-”  
  The hobbit pressed his fingers to Thorin’s mouth. “I know. I am sorry for my words also. I was too blind to see that your actions were done out of love.” Bilbo felt the King’s smile behind his hand and removed it to cup his stubbled jaw.  
  “I cannot stand the thought of something happening to you, amrâlimê. It would be my end.” Thorin swallowed deeply and the hobbit couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty.  
  “Silly, overprotective dwarf.” Bilbo pressed a small kiss to the King’s mouth. “I will agree to the guard for your peace of mind, but only until those arriving have come to accept me. After that, I would like you to consider removing it.” Perhaps a gentler approach would work best?  
  When Thorin looked like he would argue the hobbit gave him a firm look until the King finally bowed his head. “I will consider your request, but I cannot promise anything.”  
  Knowing that this was the best that he could expect from Thorin, the hobbit smiled in acceptance and leaned in to kiss his intended once more. However, his plans were thwarted when his stomach suddenly growled with excessive volume.  
  The King simply threw his head back and laughed. “Perhaps, my future Consort, we should join the others in the dining hall before your stomach endeavours to eat you instead?”  
  Much later, as Bilbo and Thorin lay entwined amongst the sheets, the hobbit drew back to look upon the King. “Thorin?”  
  “Hmm?” He murmured sleepily.  
  “If you ever use the ‘I’m the King’ on me again, I’ll hit you over the head with something larger than a button.”  
  Thorin simply chuckled and drew his hobbit against his chest once more.  
  
To be continued… 


	15. Chapter 15

  As the days wore on, Bilbo could gauge exactly how soon Dís would be arriving by Thorin’s ever-growing moodiness and his nephew’s increasing excitement.  
  When Bilbo awoke on that morning, he took one look at the King’s hunched form and knew instantly that today was that day.  
  “Thorin?” The hobbit asked quietly, slipping from beneath the furs and approaching him to smooth a hand across his back. “You have news?”  
  “Aye.” He sighed. “A scout has spotted the caravan. They should be here by nightfall this eve.”  
  “Are you not happy to see your sister?” Bilbo asked tentatively after a small moment of silence.  
  “Oh I am.” He reassured, before sighing once more, his shoulders slumping. “I am more afraid of her reaction than anything.”  
  “Oh?”  
  “I lead her sons into peril, they were almost lost to us. I am sure her welcome will be less than warm.”  
  “Ah.” Finally understanding Thorin’s melancholy, the hobbit wrapped his arms around his intended and pressed a soft kiss into his hair. “I am sure that Dís will be more overjoyed to see them alive…and you.”  
  The King snorted, but did not say anything further, simply turned and drew Bilbo into an embrace, burying his head in the crook of the hobbit’s neck.  
  The stood like that for some time, Thorin simply taking comfort in Bilbo’s presence, before duty called and the King left to attend a council meeting and the hobbit to his lessons with Balin about what was expected of a future consort.  
  The day moved quickly and with normal regularity, until mid-afternoon when the Mountain suddenly became a hive of activity and excitement.  
  Dís was nearly here.

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  It seemed that most of Erebor had gathered on the front steps and the buzz of elation was infectious to all but the King. While Fíli and Kíli were unable to stand still, their uncle looked more pale with each passing minute they stood waiting.  
  Bilbo took his place beside Thorin, his shoulder pressed gently against the King’s in a silent show of support and when he felt Thorin tense, looked out at the road leading towards Erebor and saw the group of five caravans cresting the slope towards the Mountain.  
  Eventually, they drew to a stop before the crowd and Bilbo didn’t need to guess which dwarf was Dís, as the moment she stepped from the back of a caravan, Fíli and Kíli ran towards her.  
  “Oh my boys!” She cried, gathering them in her arms as much as was possible with her son’s larger frames.  
  Dís was exactly how Bilbo had imagined, she had the bearing of her brother, though decidedly more feminine, with hair far exceeding his in length and just as dark. Her beard was neatly trimmed and shorter even than Thorin’s, more alike the stubble of Kíli’s in fact. There was no doubt however, at least by dwarvish customs, that Dís was gorgeous.  
  “Come, let me look at you!” She exclaimed, wetness visible beneath her eyes as she pushed her sons away to regard them from an arms length away.  
  “Mother!” Kíli moaned, seemingly embarrassed by this display.  
  “Oh hush!” She admonished, sharp eyes raking over their appearance. “It has been nigh on three years since I last laid my eyes upon you. You will let me have this moment, my son.”  
  After several minutes, in which both of the brother’s squirmed in obvious discomfort, Dís drew them to her chest once more, the prince’s sudden choked exhales a testament to how tightly she held them.  
  Bilbo couldn’t help but smile throughout the exchange, his heart warmed by her affection. Perhaps Bilbo shouldn’t have been so anxious to meet her, it seemed that Dís was indeed quite lovely.  
  A gentle nudge from Thorin had the hobbit’s attention once more and after inclining his head in a silent invitation, the King stepped forward, Bilbo at his side.  
  Of course, Bilbo shouldn’t have been so quick to judge.  
  At their movement, Dís’s eyes snapped to Thorin. “ _You!_ ”  
  Bilbo unconsciously stepped back under the sudden fury found in the princess’s gaze, only the King’s hand at his back keeping the hobbit from retreating entirely.  
  Her son’s abandoned, Dís stalked angrily towards them. “Do you know how it felt to be told that my son’s were near death?” She demanded, stopping but a hairsbreadth from Thorin. “Do you know of the worry I felt at hearing of their escapades? Or your foolish endeavours? Of hearing that they were unconscious after the Battle? That you died, Thorin! Do you have any idea of what you put me through?!”  
  Thorin’s face remained impassive, but his sorrow was clearly displayed within the depths of his eyes.  
  The King bowed his head. “There are no words to describe my shame and my guilt. I can only offer you my sincerest apologies and my word that I will never allow them to come to such harm again.”  
  Thorin suddenly flinched, Dís’s hand thwacking against the back of his head. “ _Stupid_ , stubborn dwarf! Never put me through such fear again!” And just as suddenly as she’d hit him, she drew Thorin into a crushing embrace of his own.  
  As Bilbo was still standing close to the pair, he could hear Dís’s muttered words into the King’s hair. “We have lost Frerin, I cannot bare the thought of losing you as well, brother.”  
  Thorin held onto his Dís with much the same enthusiasm. “Forgive me, sister. I did not mean to cause you such pain.”  
  Their embrace lasted a small eternity, until they finally drew apart and as Dís wiped the fresh tears from her eyes, it was then she noticed the hobbit.  
  “And who might I ask, is this?” But it seemed that Dís was not ignorant as to who he was, indeed her eyes were all too knowing.  
  Bilbo fought the urge to shrink away under the sudden weight of her attention. “B-Bilbo Baggins. A pleasure to finally m-meet you.” He managed to stutter out, feeling more frightened than he had when confronting the trolls.  
  Dís looked up and down the length of the hobbit, and Bilbo tried his best not to squirm much like Fíli and Kíli had. “So, this is the hobbit. I have heard much about you halfling.”  
  Her initial words were so much like Thorin’s when they had first met in Bag End, that the hobbit felt instantly incensed. He couldn’t help but stand a little straighter, his chin rising in a small show of defiance. “Bilbo, not ‘halfling’, if you will. And I assure you, Lady Dís, that your son’s retellings of my efforts are vastly over-exaggerated.” He shot a small glare at the brothers, having no doubt that it was indeed them who had wagged their tongues, and he didn’t need to see their letters for confirmation.  
  After a brief raising of her brow, the princess huffed a laugh. “No indeed, I do believe that their tale’s may, for once, be accurate. And just Dís, if you please. After all, we are soon to be family.”  
  Bilbo bowed his head in acquiescence as Thorin stepped forward. “Come, let us head into the Mountain.” He said, wrapping an arm around the hobbit. “You must be weary from your travels and in need of a hot meal, we can speak more whilst you eat. I will send others to unpack the caravans.”  
  “A fine idea, brother,” Dís agreed. “I would also like to see the progress you have made within Erebor once we have finished.”  
  And shortly after, they made they way back through the gates, Bilbo noticing the nostalgia writing across the princesses face as she gazed upon her home for the first time in too many years to count.  
  
To be continued…  
  



	16. Chapter 16

  With Thorin and Bilbo’s wedding growing ever closer, the weeks seemed to rush past in quick succession and before the hobbit knew it, it was just five days until their ceremony.  
  Dís had easily settled into Erebor once more and had become a prominent figure beside the King when she wasn’t helping to organise the wedding preparations - something she had insisted on personally overseeing. In fact, the princess was currently accompanying Bilbo to his final fitting.  
  The hobbit bit his lip as he stepped from behind the screen, feeling a touch uncomfortable in the heavy dwarvish robe of blue and silver. “I feel ridiculous.” He muttered, fingering the hem of one sleeve. The robes themselves were of fine material and beautifully tailored with intricate embroidery, but Bilbo felt that they were far too lavish for someone so simple as himself.  
  “Nonsense.” Dís said with a small smile as she looked over his garb. “It suits you perfectly. In fact, I daresay that you will leave my foolish brother quite speechless.”  
  Bilbo flushed and looked down. “Well I hope he remembers his line’s for I fear I shall forget mine.” It was no secret that this was something the hobbit was very nervous about. Not to mention that he would be saying things usually kept private in front of a whole assembly. Many of whom he had never heard of, let alone met.  
  “I have no doubt that you will both be fine.” The princess soothed, rising from her seat and picking up a sizable box from the table beside her. “Now then, there is but one thing missing.”  
  Bilbo looked at her in trepidation. “What could you possibly add? I look far too over the top as it is.”  
  Dís shook her head and smiled fondly before opening the box and presenting it to him.  
  Bilbo’s eyes widened. “ _Oh._ ”  
  A crown lay in the box, the silver looped and twisted and inlaid with dwarven patterns in a metal so dark it was almost black.  
  The hobbit was thankful that the crown didn’t look nearly as heavy as Thorin’s, nor was it as extravagant. In fact, it was rather simple and delicate by dwarvish standards. Surprisingly, Bilbo didn’t dislike it. It didn’t exactly like it either, having no inclination towards jewellery or gems, but he definitely didn’t hate it.  
  “May I?” He asked, albeit tentatively, gesturing towards the crown.  
  Dís huffed a laugh. “Turn around.” She directed and Bilbo did as she ordered.  
  In the long mirror, he could see Dís lift the crown from the box and in the next moment she placed it upon his head.  
  Bilbo was right in his assumption that it wasn’t so heavy and it settled onto his curls with a surprisingly good fit.  
  “It’s the Consort’s Crown.” She said, coming to stand just behind him and resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. “It was my grandmother’s when Thrór ruled.” Her smile was tinged with sadness and she looked away, but before Bilbo could say anything she met his gaze once more with a warm expression. “And now it’s yours. She would be proud to have you wear it. And I, too.”  
  The hobbit swallowed thickly. “I-thank you, Dís.”  
  She squeezed his shoulder. “There is naught reason to thank me, Master Baggins. I have watched you these past months and know that you will do well by our people. Thorin’s heart may have chosen you, but there is no doubt that it chose well.”  
  Bilbo was so choked with emotion he couldn’t say anything to that, so he simply lay his hand over hers and bowed his head in a silent prayer that he would always live up to her words.

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  If Bilbo had expected the rest of that day to be as routine as any other, the hobbit was proved sorely wrong.  
  Honestly, if he had been paying more attention to the goings on within Erebor, he might have had some inclination of what was happening, the signs had certainly been there. The kitchens for one had been in a flurry of activity for most of the day, the dinning hall too, and not to mention the fact that the Company was unusually absent.    
  But, as he had missed all of those signs, it came as quite the heart attack when Thorin requested his presence at Erebor’s gates and saw a small caravan rumbling it’s way up the slope. Bilbo would recognise that pointed hat anywhere.    
  “Gandalf!” He cried, running toward the caravan as it drew to a stop a small distance away.  
  “Bilbo, my dear fellow!” The wizard returned with a smile, climbing down from his seat. “It is good to see you, old friend.”  
  It had been almost a year since the hobbit had last laid eyes on Gandalf and the two happily embraced.    
  “How are you?” Bilbo asked eagerly.  
  The wizard chuckled. “There is plenty of time for that later, but for now I daresay there are others you wish to greet as well.”  
  Bilbo frowned, but his confusion quickly vanished under several cries of “Bilbo!”  
  The hobbit turned in surprise to see Drogo, Primula and Hamfast climbing from the back of the caravan.  
  “My word!” He exclaimed. “W-what are you all doing here?”  
  Drogo grinned. “I couldn’t very well miss your wedding after you travelled so far to attend mine and my wife’s.”  
  “I-I-” Bilbo was at a loss as to what to say. Never in his wildest imaginings would he have thought that the three of them would come to Erebor.  
  “Mr Bilbo. It is good to see you.” Hamfast said, stepping forward somewhat tentatively.  
  Bilbo shook himself out of his stupor and cleared his throat, embarrassed at his manners - or lack thereof. “It is good to see all of you as well. I had no idea that you would be coming.” He admitted sheepishly.  
  “That would be my doing.”  
  Bilbo turned to Thorin, eyebrows lost in his hairline.  
  “I invited them as a surprise for you.” The dwarf said, moving beside Bilbo and resting a hand on his lower back.  
  The hobbit was unable to help the tears of gratitude that gathered in his eyes and - manners be damned - wrapped his arms around Thorin. “Thank you.” He breathed into the King’s fur lapels.  
  Bilbo had sent word to his relatives that he was to be wed and when, but didn’t invite them thinking that none would come. Evidently that was a false assumption.  
  “A feast has been prepared in honour of your arrival.” Thorin announced as Bilbo drew back to a respectable distance. “And I have had my Company arrange several rooms for you. I am sure you are all tired from your journey, so please take your time to rest until dinner.”  
  Bilbo’s fellow hobbits shifted in obvious discomfort over being directly addressed by the King, or perhaps just a dwarf in general, and politely muttered their thanks.  
  “Thorin’s right.” Bilbo agreed. “There will be plenty of time to talk over dinner and I am eager to hear of the news you bring from The Shire. But first come, let us get you settled.”    
  Thorin had three rooms prepared near the royal wing and Bilbo had to stifle his amusement over his fellow hobbit’s reaction to such unfamiliar grandeur. After bidding them farewell and showing Gandalf to the third room, Bilbo lead Thorin back to their own chambers.  
  “I hope you are not displeased by their arrival?” The King asked the moment the stepped over the threshold.  
  In answer, Bilbo pressed Thorin back against the door in an unusual display of forwardness and pressed a heated kiss to the King’s lips.    
  “Silly question.” Bilbo said between kisses, sliding his hands up to grip the dwarf’s arms.  
  Thorin drew back and chuckled. “I’m glad that you’re happy. I was unsure since you did not invite them yourself.”  
  “I didn’t think they would come.” The hobbit answered honestly. “But thank you. It really means a lot that you thought of it. Now enough talking, I’m trying to show my gratitude.”  
  Thorin’s laugh was smothered by another kiss, this one deeper than the last and it wasn’t long before the King had swept his hobbit into his arms and had him pressed against the bed.    
  To Bilbo disappointment, they didn’t do more than that, but was more than happy to spend several hours in the King’s arms nonetheless.  
  If anyone wondered why Thorin was absent from his duties for the rest of the afternoon, no one asked; but it was surely obvious in the pair’s swollen lips as they made their way down to the feast sometime later.  
  
To be continued…   


	17. Chapter 17

  To say that Drogo, Primula and Hamfast looked overwhelmed was just a slight understatement…well quite a large one if Bilbo was going to be honest with himself.  
  On the one hand, he felt sympathy for his fellow hobbits and where they sat looking as though they wished to be anywhere else but here. On the other hand, he was rather amused as he watched the rambunctious Company attempt to make a good impression on their guests…ultimately failing in the process.  
  It seemed Fíli and Kíli were especially determined to win over Drogo and the poor hobbit looked almost ready to faint.  
  “-my brother was too busy boasting about his latest kill,” Kíli was saying enthusiastically to Bilbo’s cousin. “but I saw the orc-filth approaching him from behind-”  
  “Oi!” Fíli interrupted, setting aside the chicken leg he had been tearing at. “I was _not_ boasting-”  
  “Was too! Anyway,  my brother didn’t see the orc-”  
  “Because I was fighting off three others!” The elder huffed indignantly.  
  “Fighting whilst boasting then-”  
  “I was not-”  
  “MY POINT is that I shot the orc straight through the eye! Died instantly he did. Number forty-three and saved my stupid brother in the process.” Kíli finished proudly.  
  “Forty-three?” Drogo asked faintly before Fíli could retort to his brother’s comment.  
  “Kills! ‘Course, I lost count after that, but I’d say it was well over two hundred in the end.”  
  “Two hundred!” The elder exclaimed. “It was less than one-hundred and thirty by my count!”  
  “No brother, that’s yourself you are talking about.” Kíli grinned, stuffing his mouth with potato and missing the way Drogo had paled to an alarming shade of white.  
  Bilbo sighed and wondered if perhaps it was time to inform the brothers that boasting about their prowess in battle was not the best way to impress a hobbit.  
  “ _Drogo,_ ” Bilbo said loudly before either Fíli or Kíli could say anything further, deciding that a conversation change was the best course of action. “what of Bag End? How is my old home?”  
  His cousin visibly sagged in relief at no longer having to listen to talk of bloodshed. “Er-yes, wonderful, Bilbo. It’s almost the same as it was when you left it. Of course, Primula has made a few changes and…um…well we’re currently painting the second bedroom.”  
  Bilbo didn’t miss the slight flush to his cousin’s cheeks. “Oh?”  
  “We are hoping that Yavanna will soon bless us with the patter of tiny feet.”  
  “Wonderful!” Bilbo exclaimed, and reached over to pat his cousin’s shoulder. “I hope that you will not have to wait much longer.”  
  “No indeed!” Drogo agreed, looking far better than he had several moments before. “And Primula’s already thought of several names.”    
  “So have you, dear.” Primula said, speaking past thank yous and greetings for the first time since they had sat down at the feast. “So far we have thought of Bertha or Hiltrude for a girl and Tobold or Otho for a boy.”  
  “Lovely.” Bilbo said genuinely, smiling at the pair.  
  “There was also talk of a Frodo, but Seredic and Hilda were thinking of naming their expecting son Brodo and it’s far too similar!”  
  Bilbo didn’t comment on that, having gotten quite used to the similarities of names within the dwarven culture.  
  “Your expecting?!” Kíli chose than moment to exclaim, obviously having missed the first half of the conversation.  
  Before anyone could correct the youngest prince, his brother chimed in with; “You know what this means, brother? I can teach the wee hobbitling how to fight!”  
  “Ha!” Kíli retorted. “I can teach it how to shoot!”  
  Bilbo groaned and, noting the look of pure horror painted across his relatives faces, hid his own face in his hands.  
  “ _Lads_.” Balin warned, but they paid him no mind, launching into an argument over who would get to teach the ‘child’ first and with what weapons.  
  It finally took Thorin to stop his nephews. “Fíli. Kíli.” At the sound of their uncle’s growl, both princes stopped and looked up sheepishly. “If you had been listening you would know that Primula is _not_ expecting, but has hopes to.”  
  “Oh.” Kíli looked crestfallen, his brother equally so.  
  Conversation now noticeably absent from their part of the table, Bilbo was both surprised and pleased to see that Hamfast no longer looked uncomfortable. In fact, his old gardener was quite enthralled in a conversation with Ori and Óin, the dwarves describing the different types of herbs and plants found outside the Mountain.  
  Bilbo smiled to himself and wondered how many cuttings Hamfast would try and take back to The Shire.  
  Naturally the peace didn’t last past several minutes and Bilbo was once again left observing Fíli and Kíli as they tried to win over their future cousins-in-law.    
  After many a suffering sigh, Bilbo was grateful when desert finally arrived and the dwarves were suddenly quiet as they filled their mouth’s with the sweet pudding. Of course, this was unfortunately followed with vast quantities of ale and ultimately talk turning to battle once more.  
   “You should have seen Bofur!” Fíli was saying some time later. “I never thought I’d see the day a dwarf rode a troll!”  
  The elder prince was, of course, talking about the Battle of the Five Armies and the toymaker’s part in said battle.  
  “Aye, even I’ll admit that was somethin’” Dwalin agreed, while Bofur’s face reddened.  
  “Blinded the creature was.” Kíli added. “Had chains in it’s eyes that Bofur used as reins.”  
  Everyone but Bilbo failed to notice the green quality washing over Primula’s cheeks. “Er, perhaps we should talk-”  
  Their burgler was interrupted by Fíli. “And lets not forget Balin’s chariot driving.”  
  “Aye!” Kíli grinned. “Spiked wheels it had. And after dismembering a number of orcs, our dear Balin took the head’s off _six_ trolls-”  
  It was promptly at that moment that Primula’s face met with her food bowl as she keeled over in a dead faint.

  
  
O-O-O-O-O

  
  
  Naturally after Primula fainted, the entire dinning hall erupted into chaos, led first by the Company‘s horrified reaction.  
  Surrounded by the sudden concerned flappings of what seemed like the entire population of Erebor, Bilbo felt like banging his head against the wall. Repeatedly.  
  Thankfully Thorin came to the rescue once again and the hall soon quieted down under his thunderous order. After, he helped to move a barely conscious Primula into a quiet alcove and demanded that his dwarves give the hobbit some room to breathe.  
  “I’m sorry.” Bilbo said a short while later, solemnly observing his cousins as they sat huddled together, Primula now fully awake, although still pale. “They talk of their accomplishments in battle because-”  
  Drogo interrupted with a wave of his hand and sat forward, looking intently at Bilbo. “Are you happy here, cousin?”  
  “What?” He frowned, completely thrown off.  
  “Are you happy here?” Drogo repeated. “These dwarves are not like hobbits.”  
  “Of course not!” He was now thoroughly confused. “They’re _dwarves_. And yes, I am very happy.”  
  His cousin frowned. “And that does not bother you?”  
  Bilbo sighed. He loved his fellow hobbits dearly, but could no longer understand their narrow-mindedness. He fought a shudder remembering how he had once been just like them. “No.” He said firmly, crossing his arms. “It does not bother me anymore, in fact I find it rather endearing.” He hadn’t realised his voice had taken on an edge of defensiveness until Drogo remained silent, eyeing him intently.  
  “They are quite rude by hobbit standards.” His cousin commented.    
  “Yes.”  
  “They are also loud and aggressive with no table manners and even worse dinner conversation.”  
  “Not to mention kind, generous, hard working and loyal.” Bilbo countered, by now quite unimpressed.  
  “Hmm…” Drogo continued to eye him until he finally offered a weak smile, resting his hand upon Bilbo’s shoulder. “Well, I can’t say that I understand your fondness for them, however I am happy that you have found your place among them.”  
  Bilbo simply blinked, not expecting that.  
  “However, perhaps you could ask them not to mention any form of beheading in front of my wife again?”  
  Bilbo huffed a laugh. “I’ll try my best.” He turned towards Primula. “How are you feeling?”  
  “Better, thank you.” She muttered, gazing out at the hall timidly before her eyes suddenly widened.    
  Before Bilbo could turn around he heard the heavy booted footsteps of a dwarf approaching and then Bofur was at his side, hat clutched in his hands.  
  “I am here to apologise on behalf of the Company.” He said, bowing low before the hobbits. “We have been informed that we may have acted out of place during dinner.”  
  Drogo and Primula eyed the dwarf wearily for a moment, before both bowed their heads in acknowledgment of his apology.  
  “Thank you, Bofur.” Bilbo said warmly. “Would you mind informing the others I’m going to escort my cousin’s back to their chamber? I think they’ve had enough excitement for one day.”  
  “Aye, will do.” He readily agreed before leaving.  
  The journey back to Drogo and Primula’s room was an uneventful one and he bid them goodnight with promises to spend the next day with them, filled with talk of The Shire - something they hadn’t had the chance to do at dinner.  
  It was as he was walking back towards the dinning hall did Bilbo finally realise that there was no guard with him.  
  He had but a moment to revel in this moment of peace before he heard the sound of footfalls fast approaching from behind.  
  He turned and was surprised to see an unfamiliar dwarf almost running towards him. A moment later he noticed the knife clutched in the other’s hand.  
  The hobbit felt himself pale as the dwarf grinned at him. It wasn’t a kind smile. “Master hobbit, finally alone at last.”  
  And for the first time in over two years, Bilbo felt true fear.  
  
To be continued…  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a brief note to all of my readers to say that this story is not abandoned, even though I have not updated in some time. 
> 
> I'm afraid that since I posted this story, I have suffered 3 family deaths and find myself stuck with writers block. 
> 
> In the last few weeks I've found myself wanting to write more and more, and finally seem to be getting back on track.
> 
> In the meantime, I may write a few one shots in the hopes of breaking some of the rust away, and eventually will update this story until finished. I hope that it will not be too long! 
> 
> Thank you all for your patience and understanding. 
> 
> (Note added: 26/03/17)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say, this took me long time to write. Being rusty, it was difficult, but I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Blood like ice in his veins, Bilbo took a fearful step back and felt the cool stone press against his spine. Trying to remember how to breathe, he raised his hands, palms up, and eyed the approaching dwarf warily. “What do you want, Master Dwarf?” He asked, pleased his voice sounded calm and steady and so unlike how he felt inside.

The dwarf slowed his pace, but still kept coming. “I'd have thought that obvious, halfling.” He spat. “Your _death_.”

Bilbo fought to calm his rising panic, and the urge to flee. “But why?” And his voice was perhaps an octave or two higher than intended.

“Your kind does not deserve to sit beside the King as his Consort.” The dwarf sneered. “You may have bewitched him with your strange magic, but I shall be the one to save him from such a fate.”

Bilbo eyed the knife as the dwarf drew closer still and swallowed thickly, a bead of sweat trickling from beneath his hairline to fall into his eye. His blinked it away hastily.

Had Thorin been here, he would have yelled at the hobbit to run, or scolded him for wandering around Erebor without a guard, or Sting at the very least. But Thorin was not here and Bilbo thought that perhaps he could reason with the dwarf rather than resort to bloodshed. The Lonely Mountain had seen too much already.

“I have done no such thing.” The hobbit said, careful to keep his voice low and as non-confrontational as possible. “Thorin loves me, as I love him. There is no magic here.”

“Shut up, filth!” The dwarf hissed. “You do not have the right to speak of my King with such familiarity.” He stopped a few scant feet from Bilbo, knuckles clenched white over the handle of his knife.

“Master Dwarf,” Bilbo licked his suddenly dry lips. “suppose that I haven't 'bewitched' Thor - the King. Suppose that he truly loves me? What then? You will leave him grieved knowing that one of his dwarves has betrayed him.” The dwarf eyed Bilbo through narrowed eyes but said nothing, so he rushed on. “I urge you to speak to the King before you make any...rash decisions. Speak to him first, I will not say anything to anyone about this incident, and you will have your proof that the King is under no spell. Besides, I am but a hobbit, we know not of magic or the working of spells. I urge you, Master Dwarf, do not commit treason against our King, speak to him first. _Please_.”

There was a moment in which the dwarf's eyes flickered with doubt, but when his face grew suddenly red with rage, Bilbo knew it had been fruitless to try and reason with him.

The hobbit didn't waste another moment, simply turned tail and ran.

 

 

O-O-O-O-O

 

 

Thorin clenched his jaw in an effort not to sigh. The feast has surely been a disaster and he could only imagine what his hobbit would have to say about it once the King entered their chambers.

Bofur had given him Bilbo's message, but his intended hadn't returned to the dining hall. That boded ill.

Pushing the door to their chambers open with more hesitancy than a king aught to show, Thorin peered into the room. The hearth was lit, as were the candles, but the bed was un-rumpled and Bilbo's armchair, vacant.

Brow furrowed in confusion, he entered. “Bilbo?”

There was no reply.

He crossed the room and opened the door to their private bathing room. “Amrâlimê?”

The room was also empty.

A sliver of unease settled like stone in the pit of the King's stomach, but he tampered it down. Bilbo hated it when he overreacted and he didn't want to irk his future Consort without due cause.

Thorin left their rooms soon after and made his way towards Bilbo's garden. Even late as the hour was, he knew his hobbit would seek the outdoors in times of stress.

However, his endeavour proved futile, as did the library when he ventured there after. Lastly, knowing how his hobbit like to eat, Thorin checked the kitchens, but again, there was no sign of his intended.

By now, his unease had bloomed into near panic and Thorin stalked towards the royal wing, hopeful that Bilbo might have returned there in his absence.

“My King!”

“Not now.” He snapped, neither stopping nor slowing his pace.

“But, my King, Mister Baggins-”

At that, Thorin spun on his heel and levelled the guard with a glare. “Speak up. What about my Consort?”

The dwarf visibly swallowed. “M-my King, this was found in one of the eastern corridors.” He held out a shaking fist and unfurled his fingers to reveal the small object lying in the palm of his hand.

Thorin felt the blood drain from his face as he gazed upon the solitary button, one that he himself had crafted for his intended.

Once gold, it was now stained red with blood.

 

 

O-O-O-O-O

 

 

Twelve suddenly pale faces stared back at the King under the Mountain and, for a moment, all was silent.

No one breathed.

No one moved.

And then, utter pandemonium.

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield suddenly erupted as if one body. Weapons were unsheathed, angry shouts rose to a deafening crescendo, and feet were stamped with impatience as the need for bloodshed rose.

“I'll slice him in two!” Fíli shouted, voice thundering above the others.

“Not before I shoot him.” Kíli seethed.

Balin sighed, outwardly calm, but the red flush upon his cheeks gave away his anger. “Now, lads, we don't even know who's taken Bilbo.”

“For now at least-” That was Bofur, barely heard over Bifur - who was growling in Khuzdûl at his elbow.

“-He'll regret the day he was born-” And that was from Ori, sweet Ori who was no longer so easily intimidated since the Battle of the Five Armies.

“Aye!” The word came chorused, voiced by all of the Company.

“His flesh will meet my axe before the sun's rise.” Dwalin added threateningly.

“Well get in line.” Nori growled, fingering the sharp point of one blade.

Thorin had never been more grateful for his Company, nor more heart warmed at their obvious love and concern for Bilbo. But his intended was unlikely to be found in this chaos.

“SHAZARA!” He roared and the Company fell silent at once. “Bilbo's life is in danger and this will get us nowhere.” Thorin paused, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “My Company, I call upon you...I need your help.”

It was Balin who stepped forward, speaking for them all. “What do you need, laddie?”

“Nori,” Thorin addressed him first. “I assume you are as well connected as ever?”

The thief smirked, inclining his head in a small bow.

“Good. Then you know what I ask of you.”

Nori disappeared a moment later and Thorin hoped that the thief would soon return with rumours from Erebor's less refined social circles.

“Dwalin,” His oldest friend stepped forward. “organise the guard, have them comb every inch of the mountain, but do it with stealth. If Bilbo is...is ali-” Thorin choked off and clenched his fists, before forcing the words out. “-alive, I do not want him killed in panic.”

Dwalin left swiftly.

“Bofur, you know the mines better than most.”

“Aye.” The miner was grim faced, eyebrows furrowed in anger, a look not often seen on him.

“Take Bombur and Bifur, there are places deep within the mountain that the guards will not know to look.”

“The rest of you, come.”

 

O-O-O-O-O

 

 

As Thorin and his company of seven stalked towards the eastern corridor, the dwarves of Erebor quickly scattered from their path; for few had seen such true wrath as that which painted their King's face. Even sadder, was the look of utter heart-wrenching hopelessness that hid just beneath the surface.

In their minds, there was only one thing that could warrant such an expression; Bilbo was in danger.

The whispers spread like wildfire, until every corner of the Mountain was rife with speculation.

One feeling was almost entirely unanimous however, save for a scant few; fear. Fear for the Consort's life.

Dwarves were a slow adapting people, yet the small and beardless hobbit had somehow lodged his way into their hearts, and they found themselves loathe to the idea that something ill had befallen him.

Watching their King trudge with steps weighed from grief, they prayed to Mahal that their burglar was alive...

 

 

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updates may not be a frequent as they once were, but have no fear, I will indeed finish this story...it just may take longer than I ever expected. 
> 
> I always love to hear people's thoughts. So good or bad, feel free to leave a comment. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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